I lie down to rest
On Her waters
To sleep and be washed clean
I fall gently but am
Bobbed to the surface.
You are too much air
To become one with me now.
I try to climb the clay bank
To immerse in Her mud
Slick and soft glop
I go down and stick
But still am not received.
You must dry out more
You are too much water.
I lie in the dead leaves
Cupped my weight against
Her life returning to earth.
My bones becoming weighty
As rocks, but I am rejected.
You are too much fire
Your heat does not belong
To the worms yet.
I lie and look to the clouds
And stars
Am I also like them?
Am I also the earth?
Copyright 2015 Barbara Rogers