A Poem Made Of Water March 8, 2010

In my eyes there is a great pool
of water
clear and restless
silently churning
filled with all the sorrows
I hold
inside my earthly being.
Sometimes
on windy days
when the lid of the water pool
sways
too much
pushed and pulled by the energy of storms
and fights and fears
and can no longer hold
all of the inside
of me

it brims over.
(I saw it once)
my eyelids the edge
of a great abyss,
the water
shivering and wondering
how it would be
to fall.

And when the moment comes
that the darkness
churns too deep and hard
in its wild and whirling center
And it is no longer
enough
to stay with that illusion
of safety

it jumps.

And sadness
and the hurt
of all our lives
are running down my cheeks
soaking into my pours
sending tiny messages
to my skin-

to learn to let go,
to learn that this death
is not the end,
to learn to let that water
that makes every tiny green leaf grow
be born
from the deepest
of my tragedies.

And, I will.