The water isn’t ready to stop rushing

I’ve been through the storms and thrown by your wild sea
So I say I’m done running
But I can’t put my hand to the wind 
And control it
Nor my body to the ocean
And pretend not to feel it
You hold my feet down so I can stand  it
You wash this graffiti heart
So I can renew it
A reformed spirit
Clay in your hands
You have reached down and crystallized it
Your blood makes me permanent 
And if I yell at the rain and with a heated temper question it
My tree will only wither in stubborn ignorance 
Choosing instead to bathe in your rawness
I sit down and rejoice in the glorious views 
Graciously taming my patience. 

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