nothing without this
her heart is water – the uninhibited merriness of rivers carves channels of deep ceasefire, parleys melody for disquiet. she follows the offshoots, sings with the Lochsa or Kootenai as they defy icy coverlets, carry fingers of sunlight downstream. her heart is mountain – grand bones beneath each step, sinews creaking against the chill, ancient stone aunties who hum by the fire. she roams, a considerate passenger, listens to the Bitterroots chant the names of things, poems only the willing can hear. her heart is forest – molecules of sap and pine-scented, bent, sometimes broken, often mended, resilience and ache reconciled by trusting the sweep of wind. she wanders among sentinels, slips a vagabond palm against the generosity of bark. cross sections of mercy cling to her skin. her heart is land – a distinctly marked survey records the stratum of muscle memory continually oriented North. she exists in superposition, always parallel to here, viscerally seed rock soil rain river sky she is nothing without this.