before being anything else
cells or a body or a thought at a sixties’ party
you were a raft
a human-less shape of a vessel in a river
navigating your way down and up
conversing with the spawning salmon and trout
snuggling with the rocks on the bottom and teasing them
with your worn-out wooden paddle
finding the way in the water to let your soul swim free
before being a father or a brother or a son
before meeting me and before anything at all
you were the embodied shadow of a confident sailor
(“I am the river,” you once almost said to me
when I doubted your ability to row in extreme pain)
way before the universe existed
you were there already
as the core of something bigger and better and stronger
populating with your spirit
the whole of the whitewater universe
