I step through all loose and sandy.
The wellspring runs her fingers through my hair, loosening grit, pulling out bits of twig and fingering small braids, these knots of remembering. I am sandy-bodied too, shivering and shifting in my bones. So I take myself to the river and I lay myself down on the soft silty bottom in the bright shallow waters. My body eases out long and winding. The cliff walls of all that I have done and been rise up on either side of me, sheltering and honoring and remembering me. The sun makes music of all the small surfaces.
Crow comes, with his starburst feet, and dips his beak into the flow. I rise up to speak with him. Crow, Crow, what have you come to tell me?
He cocks his head at me and I recognize the rudeness of always asking what’s in it for me. I spread my arms over the river’s way and offer Crow the spangled ribbon of ever changing delight. He accepts.
He opens his beak to reveal a small flower of flame which jumps from his mouth to my heart. I am kindled.
The day becomes night, I cast dancing shadows. The dark is swift with living things. I am perfectly at home here. I let my heart subside and ember.
I come to rest.