The Shape of Its Container - June 19 2026

 

The Shape of Its Container 

June 19 2026



We are mostly water.

Water that flows

from placid stream to raging torrent.

As moody as the weather,

as dependent

on the lay of the land.

Water that’s still,

in lakes and ponds and reservoirs

sloughs and swamps and bogs.

But beneath the sunny surface

are the cold dark depths

no one sees into,

an indeterminate bottom

where over the years

sediment’s been building up

and never been dredged

  — a thick layer

of silt and mud

where who knows what might lurk.

Water that changes state

depending on pressure

passion

and circumstance;

from liquid to vapour

then back to ice.

You wouldn’t know it to look,

but they're all just variations

of who we are.

Water 

that takes the shape of its container,

fitting in

and appearing as expected.

And when that vessel breaks

seeking its lowest level

through every crack and fissure

and subterranean cleft.

Fragile, it says, This Side Up.

But sometimes you’re dropped

sometimes fall.

And sometimes trickle out

in tears of laughter

tears of sorrow

tears you don’t understand.

Salt water

down the cheek

landing hotly on the tongue.