Step out on mossy water’s-edge rock,
let the river’s rush take you
beyond yourself.
When you’re ready, kneel,
and select a secret
from the heavy chandelier
inside your chest.
Whisper it to the water.
She will carry it in her molecules
around the bend, out of sight.

Your secret will
steam from tea sipped in Vietnam,
slide down an antelope’s throat
trickle from a glacier in Greenland,
hurl from cumulonimbus clouds
onto cobbled streets in Belgium,
trill through secret underground paths,
rise up a redwood’s trunk,

turn into a silver helix
twisting from your bathroom faucet,
translucent, transformed,
washing over you.

Posted by kind permission of the poet.
Photo by Rukmini Gotmare/Unsplash.

Laura Grace Weldon

Laura Grace Weldon

About the author

Laura Grace Weldon is the author of four books and was named 2019 Ohio Poet of the Year. Her background includes editing books, leading onviolence workshops, writing poetry with nursing home residents, facilitating support groups for abuse survivors, and teaching classes in memoir and poetry. Connect with her at