I keep an image of myself
as a Stream on a shelf
in my chest. Now and then
I take it down and remind myself
that I was made to flow
at the worst of times,
even when I am nearly dry,
even when I’m only a trickle.
Even when I am leached full
of poison and death, I try
to see myself as a stream:
even with the pollution
I am better as a stream
because you cannot step into
the same stream twice and
that makes it hard to maintain
my accustomed level of self-hatred
for very long.