A Drop of Water

by Alan Steinle

A drop of water in the sea is not a new metaphor, but I have extended the idea and made a longish narrative poem out of it.

A drop of water in the sea
      accepted in its mind
that it would feel more strong and free
      if it left sea behind.

The drop then rose up to the top—
      the surface was its goal.
I’ll leave the sea, which none can stop.
      I’ll soon be free and whole.

Evaporating from the sea,
      the drop rose up and flew.
Now that I’m free and only me,
      I’m not sure what to do.

The sea must think I am its foe,
      for now it’s incomplete.
I’m guilty now—away I’ll go,
      propelled by wind and heat.

The water droplet flew away,
      and it was on its own,
and it could not recall the day
      when it was not alone.

My power is to be apart.
      Like other drops, I’ll be
alone with my own private heart,
      which no one else can see.

Although I’m small, I am my own,
      and no one else can know
what I am thinking, all alone,
      or tell me where to go.

But when the sun had warmed the drop,
      it started to ascend,
and when it rose, it could not stop
      or see its final end.

The drop began to look around.
      It saw more drops of dew.
The drop was scared, but soon it found
      that it was like a few.

I’ll join with them, so we can grow
      into a smallish sect.
I do not want the rest to know
      my thoughts or intellect.

For I departed from the sea
      to find myself again.
At first, I wanted to be free,
      but now it seems a sin.

But when the drop had joined the troop,
      it threw its guilt at those
that were not part of its own group
      and blamed them for its woes.

The sun still warmed the droplets in
      the sky and pulled them higher,
and they forgot their guilt and sin
      as drop to drop came nigher.

And then a cloud began to form,
      as cold and wind ordained,
and they produced a gentle storm.
      The drops fell as it rained.

And when the drops had fallen down,
      the sea did not destroy,
and neither did they die or drown.
      They felt a growing joy.

Though they had felt that they would lose
      themselves within the sea,
when all the droplets merged to fuse,
      they found that they were free.

The sea was where they still belonged.
      It was the mercy seat.
The sea had not been hurt or wronged,
      for it was still complete.

The sea was not deprived by dew
      that flew into the air,
for, as the droplets finally knew,
      the sea was everywhere.

To join the sea was not to lose
      but to regain it all,
for freedom came when wills would fuse
      and heed the selfsame call.

The drop of water in the sea
      had found its life anew,
and it was overjoyed to be
      the sea, air, sun, and dew.