in your own time

I come to you,
this spot on your shore,
when my heart calls out —

Today, you are frozen.

A barren scene of stillness, nakedness, truth.
You are not dressed up in silky snow or sparkling icicles.
No, you have a hazy glaze on your surface,
cracked along the edges
where people have thrown rocks, branches, trash.
At your core, you are not yet solid —
or perhaps melting.

I am shaken by your lack of wonder.
Your ever faithful power to inspire and awe is–
not today.
You are
dare I say
dreary, dampened.

What secrets do you hold under your frozen surface?
What life is waiting under the cracks?

I cast aside my doubts and judgments,
anxieties that this is somehow an omen.
I trust in your wisdom, your life:

What lives under your water will emerge,
when you are ready,
in your own time.

Until then, I will accept you as you are.