Water in Us: Three Poems

rising like water

flowing out of all of us

seeping and standing still

unaffected by gravity

is it any thing at all?

How does denial serve us?

How does a river find us?

seeping, flowing

and standing still

here, and there, at once

How will we find each other?

Who is lost, to find?

Who is found, to lose?

Who am I.

----------

I am the ocean

I feel something in you

hiding in half a smile

peering around a weathered doorframe

writing notes and never

sharing them

I feel something in you quaking in fear

at what you might

the thing is, you can't

the power you hold

is great

is frightening

can fell giants and raze bridges

and yet is only drop in a vast ocean

insignificant and powerless

an immeasurably small part

of everything that is

compared to the ocean?

I can feel the same something

/

and I feel my own somethings

unshared, hiding behind edges

they fill an ocean, the ocean

We can no more control the waves

than be changed

by a powerful drop

---------

water in a vase

I am

Trying to answer the same question

the only question

in a new way

What do feelings and experiences make?

I understand creation, intention

what I do.

But-

Who am I, from experience?

or rather

What am I like?

I can't put words to the question

I can't describe myself, and feel like that

description - is anything but water in a

vase

shaped by the solid

meant to hold up

or barely keep alive

something beautiful, but already dead

water, vase, flowers

Which one is me

Can I be... Can I

steal

borrow

beg

What I'm not?

How do I stop?

Starting every sentence with I?