Water, unwanted,
Rises in floor drains
Weeps through basement walls
Pours from an angry sky.
In a flash of light it seems,
The creek is around us,
Swirling family being sucked down …
I am vulnerable.
And vulnerability becomes everything.
It teaches me to plan ahead—
Put things on bricks
Have blankets ready
Watch forecasts anxiously—
And never let anyone in.
I think of a fish,
Flopping and gasping on a dock.
I think—who is more evolved?
One who pulls oxygen from air,
Or one who pulls it from water,
Who moves fluidly in this world,
Who only knows the wet,
But who also knows enough,
To still pray for rain?