Making a Display of Breaking

Who could ever know precisely
How much of their life they had spent

Alone hoping someone would notice,
Alone hoping no one would notice?

The content of others’ existences
Crumbles up like ice on a river,

So much slush, so many jagged pieces
Emerging on the surface as they break,

And it seems like they’re all right there,
But life’s still mostly out of sight,

Not even a witness to itself,
Not just like ice, not just like ice floes,

But the whole hydrological cycle
Convulsing to create what melts.