boston
Elegy in Limestone
CJ Evans
| If the water, everywhere, and if she is. If ghosts, like water, like if all rivers and oceans and rains are one ghost, surrounding and throughout. If she is, like if the lakes and bays of Seattle define Seattle, if the ices Of Mars and Massachusetts, hidden in their deep stones, define Mars and Massachusetts; if she is. A thirst unmet, alkaline or saline, the water not touching that thirst, if my thirst wants something else entirely. If she is. Water, if it is in and is blood. If invisible until exhale. If science lies and water doesn’t reflect sky but sky this water. If she is the sound, if it isn’t essential until its lack. If she is the sound of. Waves. If in the body, the dew in morning, and the moon. If she is the sound of the water. If rising, if breaking, if throughout. Everyone of us is made of water, and flesh. We are all born of woman. In a way, we are all one flesh. The older I get, the more I begin to understand the meaning behind the Golden Rule, the laws of Karma, the teachings of sages and prophets, the scripture that what is done to the least is done to all. | ||
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