A found poem

"Have you forgotten
that you can never
be caught
if you still
hear
trees crackling
and growling
if you can hear
the one
dit of gravel
fall over
the other
dit of gravel
in the wind,
if you can still count
the red berries
on the bushes
and divide
by the number
of birds
in the yard,
if you can recollect
that you
are descended
from some
grove
that no longer
stands,
a ground
you came from
still
run through
by El rio -
abaio rio,
the river
beneath the river
that surfaces
in the most
surprising
places?
You,
who were washed
in a magic
hearing
water
born
with a bowl
curved
inside
your belly,
there
gathering lightning,
gathering rain,
forever filling,
and forever
emptying out.
Where does
the breath go
when it is not
being drawn?"

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I've put off posting this *found* poem for a few months, hoping that I might be able to first come up with the author's name, but I haven't been able to find any source for it. Maybe someone out there might recognize it.

I found it hanging in a coworker's cubicle - a photocopy of the typewritten poem that was given to her on a retreat years ago. She doesn't recall or never knew who the author was, but "The Cairn of Recollection" was handwritten across her photocopy. Searching for that as a title didn't produce any results.