Down the hill

Behind my fathers house

Ran that little brook

Where we would torment fish

And push the water around

Or dig in the clayey bank

It was an innocent worship

I didn’t know how that water

Seeped into me

A river came through my property

Bending hard behind the house

It took st Francis from me

And delivered a folding table

And several numbered plastic ducks

The question then that I didn’t ask:

Who am I to doubt the wisdom of the water? As I lay in its endless flow

And tried too hard to let go

Sixty three feet above sea level

Six miles to the sea

Sandy said “you need the dunes”

I want to speak of my house

But I have come to the sea

there is the salty sea

I hear it, it is in me

Or rather, (no, also)

I am in it

And for that,

There are no more words


For the prompt at earthweal https://earthweal.com/2022/08/22/earthweal-weekly-challenge-river-gone/



7 thoughts on “Waters

  1. Ah, I love this poem as it is that way with me too – for the tribe of ocean dwellers, the sea is in us and we are in it. I love the childhood memories of playing in the creek too. For me, it was a lake, and, when I hiked the sandy hills, the fresh water in the flues, heading downhill to the vineyards. I would splash the water over me on hot days.


  2. We take water for granted, it seems everywhere & easy but no one really controls it, not in storms, not in planned developments: and that we need it so for daily sustenance becomes sickly hilarious when we come upon undrinkable oceans of it. Sickened spirits thirst for booze, baptize with bling, salt the sting and guzzle everyone else’s life-blood. Water water everywhere and no surrender blesses us fully into it. Whaddayagonnado. This flowed source to source.


  3. We who grow up and live near water–close enough to internalize it and give ourselves to it–we are lucky, blessed, connected. I hope our children’s children have that opportunity!


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