I shed my clothes.
Free of the strings
that tangle me to the tide.
I stand,
rooted as the pines,
reckoned to charred
stillness.
There is no rain today.
No rain,
No wind,
Nothing
to calm this raging skin.
Even the rivers
have renounced their
translation.
I kneel,
amongst the silt.
Once yeilding comfort,
now nothing more
than muted
debris.
Unsettled in these
restsraints
I throw stones,
for the sake of sounding.