by Jake Griggs
I break from the trail and catch a glimpse of the water
I see the glimmer through an archway of treetops
I know this is it
It’s like the first snow that pulls me close to the window
Or the light green sepals of a pregnant orchid
A gravity holds tight
And I will stand motionless
Hand on a knob
Consumed by a hidden sign
That says “Enter”
How I got here does not matter
But the recognition of arrival
Slides into the keyhole
It unlocks the water and sun
Air and the lightness of being
Internal blaze is reeled in with the fireline
I put down my rod with my tension and desires
I can feel my attachment to the granite
The boulder on the shore
Which has occupied that space
Since before I was born
I have been but a cog on most days
Budgeted, spent
Encumbered, owned
What’s left in me is pulled over the lake
A hidden current
A wild call
All breath
I chisel this place
Behind barriers of mind
So that I may go back
When a pall is cast
And the winds signal a gale
I come again to this sacred space
Ruminate—then repeat
Watch the water crest close to shore
Where resignation is no solution
Because it’s May
And the pike are active again
Jake Griggs is a writer and education administrator who resides in the Driftless Area of southeastern Minnesota. He is currently pursuing an MFA in Creative Writing at Minnesota State University, Mankato.