Elemental Series: Water
Is it the crystal -clear promise
of thirst-quenching delight,
the cool cascade of that so pure
its only blemish is bubbles?
Or perhaps it is the sound
it makes, rumbling over rocks,
hurtling through no will of its own
to the end of gravity’s pull,
as loud as a jet’s engine,
as quiet as a single drip.
Mayhap, the need for it,
its vitality so set that even trees
grow miles of roots to reach
a life-giving drop. The next Great War,
they say, will be fought
over the right to control
what falls freely from the sky.
We humans mock its power,
mistake the easy way we make it splash
for superior strength we do not have, for it
has sliced mammoth caverns,
flashed across dry beds with a force
to wash away everything,
faced toxins and garbage and mud,
still cycling through vapor, rain,
stream, river, ocean.
No, it is the image of our God,
the Son of Man, putting on humanness,
standing in a still pool, blameless,
eyes open to the sky as heaven parted
to offer its benediction. And so, He rose
from the muddy waters,
cleansed.
Ramona Levacy
April 24, 2013
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