How could you know if or for how long
it pushed up from the ground spiraling through the dense sediments
of mud while you looked
to forget time and dimension—if or how far it came traveling
over eons from waves giving
way or from seeds from roots displacing rocks—do you know whether
or when rainstorms struck and hooves
beat down and heaved up to the light what you found
or how long in the dark it could wait for you—for fate—wanting you
to materialize
it from a wishful thinking that moved it into being by equally considering
your origins you
from experience reaching to meet it before your mind's eye formed it
—your red canoe
setting the course in all the world to that cove that curved
into sight as you saw it—
you would raise aloft from sinking the bottle at sea by breathing
in its message—kneel
to pick up a shell from a mountain peak you'll remember was once under
—lift from the wild island the crystal that grew on another shore
where no one ever did find it
—can you know if you found it by seeing or by holding out your fingers
to touch
so only then it shaped itself to seashell gemstone driftwood—the bird
in hand a gift you would love once nested
in your palm—once placed upon the reason to be the found
thing you didn't know you needed until it was tendered there where you
are its harbor—
how could you have known where it would come from when or if or how
much to have it you would have to lose—