here the water quiets
from the chaos of birth
mother ice
sliding cold this river’s teal
quenching the half-found
cleansing the threadbare
running free with ash
and sins and a soul’s gold
to be redeemed
a silken road of
the lost and found
for our spirit’s breath
exfoliates our flaking mores
with her curative line
to a merciful sea
paulhp poetry 