Sink

Then, there is nothing to do but to grow still.
Standing at the top of an ice mountain, jump -
feel the splash into frigid waters of solitude.
Sink like a heavy stone down into the darkness,
your eyes open, watching the berg's underbelly
rise as you descend more fully into yourself.
When you have dropped far enough, you reach
a new pinnacle. Suddenly, beneath you stretches
leagues of emptiness, cold and vast and heavy,
aqueous spacetime with no visible stars.
You touch the very bottom of ancient waters,
frozen and unexcavated - the root of your soul.
Your hand moves slowly to place a hand at the peak.
Cradling the inverted crest, like a crystal, brings visions.
Your mother's eyes are looking at you, telling you
that every breath was painful but permitted if perfect.
Your father's eyes are pleading for approval from you
and every thing that could give momentary warmth.
They have made their form. You can only love and let go.
Your children were swimming here before you, soft and serene,
roots reaching from their sacrum to the source.
They neither know they're floating nor fear to drown.
They are weaving plans of how to keep the ice from melting.
They smile, and you withdraw your protective arms.
You peer into the black depths and feel peril,
suspended between fear and surrender,
wondering what will emerge of your own destiny.
The void refracts light into a mirror and you see.
There you are, in the expanse of what looks like nothing.
Who are you? Your shape forms to your thoughts.
You are conceiving yourself in the water.
You feel the tethering cord from your core pulse
from the crown of the energetic steeple.
The eternities it took to form your elements are flashing
in waves around the body and name you inhabit.
Fins - wings - feet - hands - stretch
and lift and alight and you're soaring.
Every part of you is clear and new and communicating.
There is a lifetime to learn your own language.
There is never an end to this ecstatic fulfillment.
You feel your soul opening wide, the water entering,
oceans rushing in, the iceberg becoming your body.
You realize you never stopped breathing.