by Emilie Lygren
Slick-backed rocks once ripped from
mountainsides, pieces of glass,
broken off branches of trees
and so many small pieces of earth
all roll to the river. They are
given to the constant working currents,
the blue undersides of streams,
to mud unstuck from banks and wed
to clear movement.
Here, water, such a
reduces rough edges into roundness,
sands sticks into gleaming,
bare swards, holds stones until
their shapes converge.
Stay here long enough
and the parts of you, too,
that have been broken
will be rubbed smooth.