clinging moment

living in a land of deep shadows
at the edge of the wingspan of a raging river

I have come to learn
I have come to lean and love

there is noise
but everything is quiet
as I press through
and touch the seamless garment of silence

night is leaving

I stand on the shore and watch
feeling the weight of my life
begin to drop
and I realize why dawn
is called mourning

the rocks echo ancient rhythms
heat slams into my skin

and I remain upright
solely because clinging to a cross
are the tendrils of my being