Sunday, October 23, 2016

ashes to water ashes to shadows

perhaps we have been here before
like small forms
passing between the aspens
shadows that drifted over the grasses
to fall into the river
and float away

perhaps when we die
the water takes us up in small pliable hands
and folds us into waves
patches all our sore places
and heals us in the way of water
with rubbing and rubbing against the rocks

perhaps when we see the river
and we stand by it washing our own hands
in its luxurious wet      perhaps we are seeing into the future
ashes to water    ashes to shadows  
sometimes when I stand by the river     the voices
of past lives shudder in the fish      that are caught in the beak of the heron

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