The River

From the BBC website.
From the BBC website.

Now those memories come back to haunt me 
they haunt me like a curse 
Is a dream a lie if it don’t come true 
Or is it something worse 
that sends me down to the river 
though I know the river is dry 
That sends me down to the river tonight (Bruce Springsteen) 

 

I said river and I meant river

I walked to the river in my dreams

searched for it when sleeping

when keeping watch

when whistling the night

 

I whistled the river but found no river – I now know

that whether I conjure it or fear it

it’s never outside

when I struggle, when I scream,

that’s when it comes

the river

in narrow trickles down my back – it glistens…

in the river I’ll be taken

in the river I’ll breathe my last

one untamed gulp

Foam

Crushed

 

So what can I do – chewed, spat out

So what can I do – gnawed to flotsam

 

I said river but I meant no river

All I craved was

A lagoon

 

6 thoughts on “The River”

  1. Oh, I love the imagery here, Marina Sofia! And so evocative too. Oh, and I really love that Springsteen song that you refer to at the beginning of the post.

    1. You’re my guardian angel in music matters, Margot! I’ve always been jealous of people who can sing, play instruments well and compose – makes poetry come even more alive!

      1. No! Poetry unadorned by music is so much more powerful – the words can get lost in the music. Poetry read aloud – to oneself – that’s when the words become magical. As they do when reading aloud ‘when keeping watch/when whistling the night’… 🙂

    1. Thank you. And surprisingly, it started out as a translation exercise from a language I don’t understand at all. I wrote this and then discovered that the poem was all about a forest rather than a river. Ah, well… it’s the inspiration it awakens in you that counts, right?

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