What I Believe By Kimberly Blaeser
I believe the weave of cotton
will support my father’s knees,
but no indulgences will change hands.
I believe nothing folds easily,
but that time will crease—
retrain the mind.
I believe in the arrowheads of words
and I believe in silence.
I believe the rattle of birch leaves
can shake sorrow from my bones,
but that we all become bare at our own pace.
I believe the songs of childhood
follow us into the kettles of age,
but the echoes will not disturb the land.
I believe the reach of the kayak paddle
can part the blue corridor of aloneness,
and that eyes we see in water are never our own.