You are born underground. So rapidly
you spring forth, we forget your origin—
except at the source where you flow into
pine veins, dark moss and steep rock beds.
Stretch marks where you emerge on your mad dash
to ocean deepen ‘neath your never end-
ing flow—always—we hope, we who flower
above earth’s surface with our loves and woe.
Under our skin the beat goes on and on—
or so we hope—we whose hearts are enriched
on air and water feeding blood and veins
and bruises, bursting forth to give us hope
and death. Always we empty as does earth.
Why think she is exempt? So you, too, dear,
must some day end, but maybe you lift upin vapors toward the stars and enrich suns.
Inspired by Sumana's prompt
Copyright © 2015 S.L.Chast