
The river behind the house at night
has so much more of a voice
in the darkness, rushing
toward the ends of the earth as if
this is the journey of all journeys.
The world I was born into has hurried
me through forty-seven years, never
stopping to place me where I belong:
I want to lie firm and wondrous in the arms
of the river, a boulder of great faith.
Then when it hands me the moon
shimmering and full, and gathers
the rippling stars in close, I am part
of a circle of sisters, sharing stories,
named in their alphabet of light.
Ask me then about ecstasy,
and I will say it runs gleaming
through the secret universe
of my body, that it calls me
home.
An older poem, first published in North Shore Magazine, and included in my first chapbook “Stealing Eternity”. And since its writing, happy to say I found where I belong.
So beautiful. The power of the river.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Many, many thanks, V.J.! The river is definitely one of my muses.
LikeLiked by 1 person
My pleasure, Lynne.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is great, Lynne.
A river has both place and purpose. Sit beside one, and it will tell you yours, if you only listen.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Ken! Your river comment is a perfect nutshell poem, exactly as is – love it!
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂
LikeLike