Arguing indolence with the dragonflies,

Arguing stillness with the wind,

Arguing creation with every rock that bears a face, which is every rock that bares witness as I dress myself in leaves,

Which is every rock that refuses to tumble down.

Arguing roots with a tree whose braches brush the stars.

Arguing history with the bones of women murdered there as they refuse to sing songs of anger to the water.

The water that communicates with the whole mountain before being swallowed

Into such a sacred space.

The water that continues to hold the potential of us in ripples and shiny waves.

Unborn.