I am a river sluicing past canyon walls,
splashing at the bends before
settling down again.
Little whitecaps belie the deep undertow
of quiet and knowing repose
rushing through my belly below.
And following a predestined path set before
over a million years and more,
I do not hammer or drive into the stone
at my side—it is with instinctive ease
that I bend and twist and glide.
I have no need to resist what lies ahead
as I wash on by.
Let the howling winds chip away the stone,
let the rain drive a wider channel—
I am going the way of angels.
© 1997 Shoshana Wolfington