Closing your eyes to Mountains

Docks hold significance for me.

Cradling me in water without getting me wet.

Filling my ears with sounds of splashing.

Quieting my heart rate.

Reminding me that stillness isn’t actually still.

The hum of moving from side to side, swaying with the tide.

Allowing the sun to make the air finally hot.

The sense of being warm enough lulling your eyes to sleep.

Closed in a thought, undistracted.

Unalerted by the sounds and sights.

Content to be an onlooker. To blend into the background of the scene.

Not as blue as the sky, or as loud as the lake, or as elevated as the mountain peaks blending into clouds, but fitting into the bends of a rock.

Seeing all the indicators that water is moving about constantly, filling in around whatever has been here previously.

Showing pivots like pencil markers tracking height on a wall.

Parenting growth as the distance between two markers.

Relaxing souls that are coming to rest and think.

Seemingly relaxed as well.

Writer. Thinker. Facilitator. Advocate. Invested in accountability for power based violence, creative initiatives, and meaningful, nuanced dialoguing.

Writer. Thinker. Facilitator. Advocate. Invested in accountability for power based violence, creative initiatives, and meaningful, nuanced dialoguing.