i walk on the shore of an ancient sea.
my steps crackling the exposed lake bed.
i walk across countless bodies 
dead microbialites 
bleached white, tiny beings 
they photosynthesize, provide nourishment
then turn to rock. something about 
biology doing chemistry to become geology. 
damn. 
some of the first critters to live on earth's surface. 
here they are, laid bare, 
the receding shoreline 
exposing them to air 
and sun. like fish out of water, 
they can not last long. 

may we cry our grief and praise.
see our tears buoy this great body
to swollen shorelines.
may this uprising sweep away
the dams choking what we know
this body needs.
may we show up on purpose
may we say i was wrong
wash away the apathy
let the causeways drown
may i-15 go underwater forever. 

open wide the floodgates 
wash away extractors from the shore.
may we never again measure 
this body by economic value.
may we count our blessings 
by the flaps of wings. 
may we be the ancestors who stepped 
in the path of destruction 
and said no more.

milo (they/milo) is one of the lake’s many lovers, a grieving young person working in community to heal the wounds inflicted upon the lake by older generations for decades.