The Pulse of Water


Holly Grantham -Pulse of Water3

On days when the wind arrives
heavy with smells from
the North
and the Gingko trees start bleeding
you can stand at the edge of the lake
and watch it quietly lap at the shore
when you close your eyes
you can even feel
the pulse of the
and all its tender singing
Feel it wick up into
the soles of your feet

Today I stood in such a place
My toes pointing towards
the water, my eyes scanning
the shoreline
I noticed that the leaves are
rustling differently now that
they tip towards death
Their percussive shaking an
omen of endings
But I also heard
the swooshing inside
my ear
The one borne from
and a deep ache buried
beneath bone and marrow

It was then
that I felt the
rush that comes from
standing on the edge of
something dangerous
As if the water line suddenly
gave way to
bluffs striated with rust browns
and inky blacks
It was here
on this threshold
that the weight of feeling
spilled out and
scattered the dust on
my feet
It was here
that I felt the

Holly Grantham
Holly is a wife, very relaxed homeschooling mom of three boys, snapper of photos, coming of age writer and a soul drowning in grace. After years in Atlanta where she attended college, married the love of her life and lived in an intentional community, she found her way back to her home state of Missouri. She now lives in an antebellum stone house, raises chickens (sometimes) and pretends that she lives in the country.
Holly Grantham

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