the broken
pieces, the
ended things, that
collect at the base of
my many falls?
Should I be sorry that
Distractedly fascinated
By the sky they
Did not notice I reflected, until
slowly
I did not, they
Slipped over
The edge with
No warning?
Should I feel
guilty
my signs were not clear enough?
It’s true I tried to tell them softly at first,
hoping as they slipped along my gentle curves they would
glimpse my perfect recreation of the sky
slowly becoming less perfect as I started to
remember myself.
They could or would not see.
Narrowly slipping past the
Small dangers I
warned them but
They noticed no
Disturbances.
A rock here, an eddy there
Thus I began to learn my strength
Feeling the power of my collective fluidity
As it met and flowed past minor resistance.
While they gaped upward in sleepy adoration, stopping only to complain about the rain,
I grew more bold and mighty by the day
Until finally the reflection they never saw was gone,
Roiling in loud and textured silence;
swirling them towards a sturdy branch, I made a final offering,
They had only to look, reach…
I and the sky have wept tears over your ignorance
I have tumbled your leavings around and around
Trying to smooth over the violence of our misunderstanding
but
I have
become
myself and I
will not
apologize
for
never
being
the sky.
Originally published at umvilleweekly.blogspot.com on February 15, 2017.
