To dive into the river and pull up
something lost from among the silt,
to set it aside as something precious,
to marvel at the present.
To extend a line between
beating hearts - a thread
between mountains and geographies,
between ancestors and descendants,
to build connection.
To watch the swallows
fly low over the water, to breathe
with the pines to wonder at the
mountains shrouding themselves,
to honor nature.
To slow time, to let the hammer drop
on string somewhere inside
the instrument and let the sound
reverberate
to receive inspiration.
To cough stones from throat, to
clear space for voice and
watch something green emerge
to heal.
To honor heaviness,
the salty brine pumped
from chest like an underwater thing
to grieve.
To find fluidity - to create
identity that comes, that connects
that alters our course downstream
to slow, and someday arrive
here,
alive in awe.
Emily Richart 