God in the Water

Calling back again

I formally met him

Two weeks later

In a photo album

The man identified as my grandfather

Who died two years before I was born

But I met him earlier

As the God in the Water

Though I didn’t know him as such either

We were standing there

Me, my uncles and my grandfather

Closest to the water

There was a boat and pines nearby

But I may have added that later

But there was one part I remember

It was white water

No, not like that on a river

Smooth and gentle; in swirls

I took it all in, thinking it strange

My uncles didn’t say anything

And then, it began to happen

My grandfather; God by the Water

Without movement, without stumbling

Slipping, no not even sliding

But gliding, folding backwards

Submerging into the water

I reached out my hand

And I called to my uncles

Do something

But they did nothing

And they looked at me dumbfoundedly

As if to say

There isn’t anything

What could we possible do?

And with both hands,

I grabbed at his shoulders and pulled

But I was only two

And he was a hefty cattle rancher

So I called to my uncles again

And they looked at me dumbfoundedly

But then they got behind me

And helped me pull

I was the only one touching him

And it was slow as if

The water was heavy

As mercury

But we pulled him out

And he gave me two pats on the back

So when my mother

Pointed at the picture and said

That’s your grandfather, he’s dead

I told her

No he’s not

I saved him

I pulled him out of the water

But now, I’m there again

Standing by the shore

And the boat is gone

And so are my uncles

It’s just me and

The God of the Water

And his hand is resting on my shoulder

And he tells me,

Let her go

It’s her time

Don’t stop it

Just let her go

But she’s my last grandmother

And she’s still alive

So why is he telling me this?

Why am I hearing this?

Why am I thinking this?

But instead,

With eyes glazed over

I nod and look out at the water

White, smooth swirls

And the God in the Water