You yearn to fall apart, to crumble into dust,
To lose yourself like an echo in strangers' voices.
Stop. Feel: you are the footing and firm ground,
Here every cell denies death.
Rough texture. Reality. Not a dream.
Presence in the body - an unbreakable law.
Dig into the water - into the icy deep,
Grip this moment - heavy and solid.
Become an anchor in the silt, where stillness hums,
There the hardness of stone grows through the ribs.
You are the root that tears the highway roadbed open,
Breaking the spines of concrete spirals.
The wrist pulses - the rhythm of struggle,
You are greater than the shadows and the ghostly "what ifs".
To remain here - your hardest deed:
To bear witness to being, and need no reason.