The River Rock

The water is knee-deep here,
calm, as if half-asleep.
The hem of my skirt gets wet.
I can see the pebbles around my feet.
I push back at first, but then
decide to start walking against the flow.
Against the current. Hmm.
The decision comes easy.
The water begins to recede,
my knees are no longer submerged.
Soon, my ankles are peeping out.
I am out of the water now, almost.
The river is just a stream here.
Crashing against the pebbles that
seem so big compared to the tiny stream.
This is the origin.
This is where it all began.
The pebbles here are the same as
the pebbles there.
It is the force the river applies here
that is different.
It is striking the stones,
carving its way out against their wishes,
despite their unshakeable presence
until they begin to erode
layer by layer, succumbing to
the resolve of the tiny stream that is destined
to become a river.
I decide in that moment
this is what I want to be:
a force of nature.