Water

a color in fire's subtle violence was lost

igniting our own shadows long ago

it was after we first shook the roots of mountains

new intention poured like molten iron

stunned rock cried steel colors across the water

our machines now breathe of the viscid rivers

we run like business through sacred ground

right under the feet of our oldest shame

and still they set their shields aside trying

again to remind us what water is

how nothing alive is ever less than made of it

there is no sound coming up from the river

the ocean grows with a soup of small plastics

ancient ice caps slough thoughtlessly

as the skies wash out over cities

and still they know how to strike the hum of earth

to we who lit our shadows long ago

and forgot how to listen