When glaciers calve they calve in moments, contained within the thunder of falling ice. Here is one such falling moment from Aialik Glacier in the Kenai Fjords National Park, scribbled on a notepad amid a sea of ice, beside the first calving to truly take my breath away.
Stay and go and hold and crumble — this is the closest I come to praying. I crave the loss of what I love, stare into the depth of blue in untouched mist, the sheen of light-glazed ice, and I clench with the hope of destruction that runs deep as a pressed crevasse. And the hope and pain and savage joy I feel when the ice finally lifts in reverse into the sea, a falling noiseless as flight — that feeling crunches like the weight of many snows, tears into rags like seraks, mirrors within my mind the tangled exultation of fallen beauty.