Ritual

I am standing in the estuary
on what will become summer's last day,
cupping water in my hands and gazing
at those crystal lifelines. I feel as if
I could stand here forever, light sealing
that small crucible … which breaks: enough.
Time, having wasted me utterly,
delivers me back to myself. I celebrate it
with this transparency, and a defiant
patience which tells me when to spit
into the eye of the whirlpool. Now, the current
strengthens, pulls at my feet, wilfully
planted; then I walk towards the sea,
resisting and stumbling; winning and drowning.