Everything That Ever Was

Like a wide wake, rippling

Infinitely into the distance, everything

That ever was still is, somewhere,

Floating near the surface, nursing

Its hunger for you and me

And the now we’ve named

And made a place of.

Like groundswell sometimes

It surges up, claiming a little piece

Of where we stand.

Like the wind the rains ride in on,

It sweeps across the leaves,

Pushing in past the windows

We didn’t slam quickly enough.

Dark water it will take days to drain.

It surprised us last night in my sleep.

Brought food, a gift. Stood squarely

There between us, while your eyes

Danced toward mine, and my hands

Sat working a thread in my lap.

Up close, it was so thin. And when finally

You reached for me, it backed away,

Bereft, but not vanquished, Today,

Whatever it was seems slight, a trail

Of cloud rising up like smoke.

And the trees that watch as I write

Sway in the breeze, as if all that stirs

Under the soil is a little tickle of knowledge

The great blind roots will tease through

And push eventually past.