the end of the Ice Age

When my grief burst forth
it was like when glacial Lake Missoula
finally built up too much volume
too much pressure
to be contained any longer
by the ice wall that buttressed it.
For even an impenetrable
wall of ice has
its limits.

When that last drop of water
plopped into the lake
(or was it a bit of sunshine that melted
the wall in just the right place?)
there was no going back.
There was only a great release
a great rupture that recarved the
landscape, everything in its path.

No amount of human intervention
could have prevented
the natural course of melting ice

This release of pressure
created a sense
of both pain and pleasure

At first glance,
it looked like utter destruction
as the cold water rushed forth
finding and filling
the low-lying valleys
And yet, in due time,
it was these same valleys
in which new species found home
These new, rough channels
where I find solace as I hike
examining the layers of rock
listening to the birds sing
feeling the sun warm on my face
holding my lover’s hand
breathing in the beauty

Beauty I thought impossible before.
You see,
the glacial lake was my heart
contained and “safe”
behind the frozen wall
If you had asked me if I had wanted
it all to come down,
I would have thought,
“That sounds terrifying;
this is the Way Things Are.”

Now that the wall has broken
and the tidal waves have passed
I can’t imagine
this landscape any other way:
river flowing freely to the sea
following the gravitational pull
that tugged in vain
for so many years,
the branches of water bringing life to every every critter
along its bank
seeding the Earth
for what next?