I am the River

There is no river

I’ve never seen

As the water moving,

Sometimes still

And sometimes restless,

Through the vessel

Of my own body,

Crashing against

The turbulent,

Mountainous mass

Of my heart

That is never still,

Even as it plants

In the center of my being,

Roots ancient and wise,

Ready to bear

The tides of cries

Of thousands of years

As they come, now,

To sublimate

In this very moment,

But I am ready;

This is what I’ve been

Preparing for.

I am the river;

I am the rock.

I am the emotions

Of all these centuries;

I am the one

Witnessing them,

Loving, letting go.

The river becomes

The ocean that meets

The fabled horizon.

We see in ourselves

Not what we were,

Not what we will be,

But our perfect selves,

Already here,

And we could never be

Anything, anywhere else.

Day and Night

It looks like emergence,

a movement from dark to light,

from a midnight moon’s lush wiles

to the redemptive break of day,

and you are sitting on soft sand,

not having slept at all,

and the salt brought in

by each sonorous, soothing wave

has cleansed you so that

you are no longer haunted,

and the sun has appeared,

a revelation each time,

to penetrate you with promise,

glee, anticipation for this life.

And so it is – life after death

every single morning,

an emergence, but not a line.

For we live in cycles,

and the darkness will come again,

to be, always, followed by light.

Do not run screaming

against the doors of night,

or fear the end of day.

The lessons of each are harrowing,

but the cycles are also moving,

round and round, in the direction

of our greatest making.