Your touch is redemptive,
and I wade into streams
like open arms,
eager to be consumed.

your seemingly subdued surface
masks a biting undercurrent.
There is something churning
just underneath,
beyond sight,
beyond reach,
the temperature changes,
the dirt rises.

Your waters transform.
The old flowing out,
the new streaming in.
Seemingly sedentary,
but not constant.

I trip into trenches
reminiscent of your smile
and reflective of scars.
when my lips drip with your words,
and my skin is moist from your touch,
I feel sorrow
hiding in mock transparency.

I spread myself thin upon your surface,
trying to absorb into you.
To reach the inner depths,
but buoyancy keeps me well guarded.
And you will not swallow me.

I cannot float here forever
rains eventually dry,
and mud turns to dirt.
I must return,
at last walk upon earth.