The Setting of Carry poem by Linda Hogan

From water’s broken mirror
we pulled it,
alive and shining,
gasping the painful other element of air.
It was not just fish.
There was more.
It was hawk, once wild with
hunger, sharp talons
locked into the dying twist
and scale of fish,
its long bones
trailing like a ghost
behind fins
through the dark, cold water.
It was beautiful, that water,
like a silver coin stretched thin
enough to feed us all,
smooth as skin before anyone knew
the undertow’s rough hands
lived inside it, working everything down
to its absence,
and water is never lonely,
it holds so many.
It says, come close, you who want to swallow me;
already I am part of you.
Come near. I will shape myself around you
so soft, so calm
I will carry you
down to a world you never knew or dreamed,
I will gather you
into the hands of something stronger,
older, deeper.