Ear resting on the stone,
I listen for water’s whisper.
This crag, belched from earth,
incites my pummeling
until it crumbles, but rubble
cannot quench my thirst.
Pail and ladle in hand,
I bang the dull chime
echoing into a dank cavern’s font
where grace trickles
to fill forest where deer
sup the hidden stream.
Disappointed by hope,
my heart cannot harden more,
anger does not breed redemption,
cursing never yields a harvest
to ripen and reap, reconciling
this journey from wilderness.
Quartz and morel, limestone fossils,
guide me where suffering floats
on a stagnant pool rimmed
with lush ferns. A mirrored sky
revives a wanderer with an unseen
feast to douse each living sin.