A horse is strong enough to swim
even against the current.
Remember that when you plunge
into the rapids of your own despair.

You’ve been waiting for the water
to settle. Boulders, pine
root themselves in sand,
staying in one place–
an illusion, a mockery
of who we are, what all things seem
in hindsight.

We depend on others to be our rocks,
the ones that never move or grow old.
It’s hard to hear the changes in the shift of atoms,
the green cells of leaves, the wave
of a hand that moves tiny universes
endlessly toward and away from each other
as the blood courses, minerals dissolve
and harden, the winds find new directions.

We cannot stop. Even in our sleep, the current
flows like the river the horse swims through,
afraid and courageous. His legs pump the water
to stay afloat, to bring him
to the other side.