What we are

Life is a river,
and we are a raft on this river.
We are also the boy on this raft
(and his friend in blue overalls
barefoot
straw hat pulled down over his eyes
feet dangling off the edge
we are this boy as well)

In fact, we are also the big stick
in this boy’s hands
finding purchase in the muddy bottom on some rock
with which to push the raft downstream
and perhaps that rock is someone we love
and perhaps the floating detritus
that wraps around the stick
is a mortal enemy, maybe even an eternal antagonist
who pursues us across various lives as we live them
persistently annoying the momentum of this stick, and this raft,
(which are both us, remember,)
and the boy, who simply lifts the stick from the floor of the river
and gives it one, two, three hard shakes,
he is still us as well.

And this rolling black water beneath us?
It is the world and it is time
and it is born high up in the mountains
as white snow, pure blinding white snow
and it trickles down through trees and dirt
it collects in small streams
and passes underneath bridges
eventually joining together here
dark and huge and unslowing
then empties out into the warm sea
(and that sailboat, passing by the mouth of the river
i would like to think we become that graceful white vessel
with its sails unfurled, yes,
just like an angel’s wings)