Where I’m From
From Dunes Review • #28.2
I first belonged to Lake Michigan,
to its cold gray waves, sharp whitecaps,
its terrible, changeable moods
and how it crashes against the rocks
I once climbed on. The never-still voice
of wind, its power over water – thrilling,
a little bit frightening.
But also to its splinters of silver, lilting notes
lifted on the tips of splash. White-bright
sun reflected in shards. Vast glistening.
Both at once.
Was I born in awe?
I rose there, a girl brought so often
to the cusp of something.
A birthplace to which I keep returning
as if called by that shifting gleam.
Child of water, light, ice. Standing near
but rarely entering its chill, its grip.
Slippery boundary. I hold my breath,
balance there on the flat tops of boulders,
chips of solid earth piled at its edge.
So many days spent poised on the brink
of land and lake, working to keep equilibrium.