Ophelia in Utah

I lay down singing, down
in the glassy stream, my arms
laden with crow-flowers, nettles,
my mouth still telling prayer
and songs of grief, my mind,
they say, gone. O father,
brother, lover, those heavy
skirts and what I carried
bore me down, and under
green water I left you,
left you my body to plant.
Imagine my surprise
when not just time passed
but all space and dimension,
and I surfaced farther away
than you or I could ever imagine.
This is a lake of salt, where all tears
come to rest, and I am buoyant here,
bare under a very bare sky, completely
awake now, and curious. I carry nothing
but words. What have they named
the flowers in this windblown place?
Who will I meet if I rise up, walk
to the far road? I will say Here I am.
I will wear the one face God gave me.
The water is a vast breathing thing—
it grows dark beneath me. Dark
and deeper still.