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Lifted by Water

- Manann Donogh0e

Moving ice


like a windowpane.

Let my name be

the break

that comes

to still this air.

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I've noticed my coffee's going cold quicker. It's tepid by the time I close up for the day. 

I slump back into my chair, watch the remaining light flicker strange faces on the roof.

Cycling Scotland was an opportunity to break from feeling physically stuck. Despite deepening my social isolation, COVID also kept me from escaping the city's enclosure.

Through motion, I hoped I'd figure something out.

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I become waves

folding upon the shore

slowly lifting


When you cycle for long periods, most of your thoughts are descriptive— 

Today was cold and wet. 

After pushing through rain and wind, unforgiving cold, my ankles were shot.

Or Why do my knees feel like crushed glass?

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My knees make sounds
like two friends
The water's a salve
weight bearing.
I run from the waves
like a child,
by the sea
returning to sleep
my body sways
still in the wake.
The bickering stops.

My last night in Scotland was purples and blues, crimson clouds. Sitting on the cold sand,

I watched them extend from the stars to the waves.

Truthfully, I was disappointed.

Stopping, or more precisely, admitting the need to stop, is hard for me.

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Weighty endurance
keeps rocks
in flowing streams
fixed in mossy green.
make me sand
and I'll move
like the others.
Lifted by water

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About the Writer:

Manann is an Australian writer and researcher living in New York City. 
He's motivated by a desire to understand the mutual constitution of nature and culture.

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