Querencia
By Peter Anderson
Is the space where we are most at home
The sound of the word takes me to water,
to the river maybe, the nose of a kayak in
the heart of a wave, as it spills over a ledge
curls back upstream, crests and falls again
crests and falls again and holds the boat
in place, as long as I dip paddle and rudder,
keeping to the sweet spot, where the up
and down currents meet, where there is
stillness in motion, where I am held letting
the sun slivered water slide by on the glassy
edge of a hole in the river. Dwell as water
on water, blood on blood, surf the heart
of it all. You are here, says querencia.
in this body, on this river, you are here.
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