A year to the day.
The waters fell, the waters rose. Again. Boundaries breached. Again.
Imbalance seeking its own resolution. The atmosphere holds what it can. Then water finds its level. Pulling banks into beds, collapsing edges, toppling centuries of habit and habitation, exposing roots. These waters, misplaced and muddy, overwhelm our profuse, precious human lives.
Our modern lifeways underwhelm water.
Dam. Dredge. Direct. Discharge. Petroleum. Plastic. PFAS. Spoil. Spill. Sell.
Water will rise.
We will fall.
Mourn. Muck. Brace against the mad music of the rain.
Do it all over again, this fight against ourselves.
We are water. We imbibe and cohabit with water. Carefully sourced, pumped, dispensed, contained, and drained. We dive and swim and float and splash in water. We sweat water. Piss water. We cleanse our bodies with water. Can we rise up for water? Can we recognize water among our relations?
Listen to her rushing reminder:
there is no choice
but to be
part of the flow.
