The River Flows

shead_olympus_pristina5 I know how it goes.
I’ve been here before-
I just forget,
the way that we forget
how fine a bath feels
when our habit is a shower,
how a child’s face
dawns in a dim space
when a gift blooms as a smile.
It’s just forgetting for a while
the wide arms of the oceans
rocking all of us to sleep,
the Father’s sweep of clear blue eye,
the Mother’s willing, milky breast.
I forget the West Wind’s easy kiss
and that the sun heals
more than it could ever burn.
I forget how this world turns,
spinning as we planned.
I forget that we’re all free
to think we win or lose,
that choosing is my power,
my design and reason
for this visitation, in this season,
that I’ve only to believe
that nothing’s ever really wrong,
no sin or crime has held me back,
no taste or touch I should regret.
Over any aging rock
the ageless river flows.
It takes me sweetly, swiftly home
even when my eyes are closed,
even when my fists are clenched,
even when I just forget.


About Dan

Published novelist, poet, essayist, copywriter, photographer and college educator. Visit me at

Posted on January 15, 2009, in Self Development. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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