Walking On Water

Not meant to be easy—it takes a lifetime
curling waves are dodgy—unpredictable
churning and folding—kind of like me
both nature and I are curved and wiggly
knotted, contorted—like whispering trees
with trunks shackled to tangled-up roots
growing beside long—meandering rivers
gulping snakes of forks from every direction
like my long wandering trails to loftier vistas
winding through whittles of lesser resistance

All our bent elasticities possess a real purpose
better resisting life’s winds and dark storms
absorbing stinging stumbles of our own steps
over boulders or chasms of faulty adventures
all the artistic shaping of our odd differences
become painted masterworks of togetherness
helping us better fathom—that we are all part of
a curved cosmos and infinite thing within a thing

And what union could ever be more beautiful
than the soft angelic murmurations of starlings

Now—I’m a long way from ever walking on water
but straight, square, and sharp—never floats for me