“Riverine Rite”
cedar planks forget the shore,
as current claims its kill;
What once was spoken,
speaks no more
Beneath the water’s will.
They that stepped
from off the bank
were bathed in silver light;
old distinctions slowly sank
into descending night.
Between prow and steering oar,
No contract binds the two—
No labels dragged from dusty lore,
No names for what is new.
They do not catch each other’s eyes
To find a settled place;
They watch instead, a heron flies,
through stars in outer space.
A third thing pulls the heavy raft,
A cold but holy weight;
carving soul in ancient craft
leaving mind in wait.
For why define a moving tide
Or cage the wind in breath?
They simply journey side-by-side,
Beyond the reach of death.
The river shifts, the brothers change,
The banks are never known;
Their path vibrant as is strange,
they’re never left alone.
For in the flow where nothing stays,
Their formless bond is free—
A prayer of foam and quiet days
That seeks the boundless sea.
.