Rocks roll from the mountains,
moist with rebirth.
Hard, cold, and purposeful,
they carve a path through
a forest of resistance and fear.
Some days my words catch
in thickets of time as the pen
never touches paper and my thoughts
continue to spill into the ocean
like spent streams of raindrops.
My legs quiver as quartz tumbles
beneath my feet and we slide
against tree trunks ripping earth
from its roots to form
a world of our own.