Water Walking

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

Was down.

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.

Sometimes the most dangerous paths are the most rewarding

There is something both powerful and terrifying about standing inches above uncontrollable forces.

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For more dangerous surfaces, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.