I come to watch the warpaint shiners swim—
             minnows with red-tinged fins tunnel

through a biting current. Downstream, children
             swing off a rope, trusting the river

to break their fall. It’s hard to have so much faith—
             I pause before the cable-bridge, wondering

if I should cross this chasm of stones.
             I can feel the weight of my body—

humidity lingers on my skin, a reminder
             of days when school was out

and I spent hours in my room, brushing rough canvas
             while the house filled with whispers.

I had few expectations then—only that I might rupture
             like a dam. I painted my dreams

in watercolor, closed my eyes, listened to my breath,
             at first unsteady. I understand the balance

underwater, where the fish must know
             how to get home, to safety.

At the suspension bridge, my hands scrape wire—
             I find my footing on wood that trembles.

I am learning to carry my heaviness—
             knowing, somehow, the bridge will hold.