Beside Mallards

I would have said a few words, just a few,

When sitting beside mallards at the pond,

Touching a stream of water minnows drew,

Like quicksilver, into a deep beyond,

The flash of fins into a sunken place,

Curtains of algae obscuring the sun.

My heart halted as they received their grace,

Alone when the stream was not overrun.

But no words surfaced, still inside in the deep,

Also, a wall I could not penetrate,

Forbidden sharply to communicate,

When buried in the place where longings creep.

I never could completely understand,

Pressed under a great stone like Sisyphus,

My soul unanswered at each precipice,

When a minnow freed itself from my hand.

Did it know I could never let it die?

I asked if life or death would be kinder,

I was this girl, and no one could find her,

Beginning when the mallards paddled by.