micropoem

I tested the waters

dipping my toes

But the lake was made of silence

that had turned a perfect blue

I would get so close
I could almost reach out and examine my feelings.
But the ‘almost’
felt like unbreathable glass.

What started as a ripple became a wave,
then a thunderous tsunami.
The water was just the sound of a promise
learning to forget itself.

“…a different time and place,”
I would tell myself.
But time was like a folded map,
missing the ink for the mountains I needed.