I fell through the ice once.
Smaller and less cautious,
I missed the boundary between the thicker and thinner places
That separated the water from my feet.
As I heard the snap and felt the ice and my legs give,
I remember wondering why
If ice was water, I couldn’t keep walking
On the waves beneath it,
Why the only direction my feet could take in water
I am no water walker,
Now or then,
But I learned that I was willing to brave the water
I could not walk
To see the shore behind me,
To stare at the land that would not pull me down from
The illusion that my feet could travel the surface of the waves
And not their depths.
There is something both powerful and terrifying about standing inches above uncontrollable forces.