To the sea

I stopped en route, not tired, this is true
between two oaks; a river close
turning bright white around granite rock
destination mapped, destination known

I stalked its curve 
craved its certainty
hung on to its dying lungs, in valleys
too deep for this journey

I questioned myself behind blanket cloud
thoughts thick with mud
until I witnessed hope escape high banks, and
chased its tail like a wolf a deer

And there, stripped, I bathed in diamond flow
sank and rolled and tumbled
drank carved secrets left behind
until I felt my own

And I lay, woken by breeze on pimpled skin
propped up there by roots of trees
water all-a-tugging at twisted limbs
eyeing me a way through, where boulders stood.