H2O

Untitled | Elianne Bober | Pencil

H2O by Cate Schultz

Rain pounds against the glass

Trapped in a castle of soft light

My legs shift to the ground, a routine disciplined unlike before

Craving control

On these mornings,

As the water ebbs and flows in a line

There is meaning to it all

But then it’s 8:57 on a Friday night

The water is no longer graceful

It falls and shakes and breaks

This life is water, not the biblical kind

The waves when you feel light

As if something’s gone right

Then they coil to darkness

As your mother cries at the dinner table.

This life is water

Soon it will turn to frost

This year felt like a hurricane, with inelegant runoff

The unfathomable debris that will remain, sinks deeply within 

But the river will flow on

It has to