At rest
Between the fires
The morning long past
The evening to come
These form flotillas
Of tourists and pilgrims
To view the Ganga Aarti
Twice daily
At rest
Between the fires
The morning long past
The evening to come
These form flotillas
Of tourists and pilgrims
To view the Ganga Aarti
Twice daily
I tumble and fall
Down cascades of white water
Dreams of tranquil pools
As water falls
In fractured cascade
See trauma’s pain
Fragmented mesh
Of memory and behavior
Slim tenuous tendrils
Strewn across twin darknesses
Of dissociation and repression
Shattered shards of self
Unanchored and adrift
Hard rock cradle of the canyon
Fluffy down comforter in the sky
Below, a river flows
Brings all I see and need to life
I remind myself
Even the gentlest creeks
Carve canyons from bedrock
With the aid of time and tenacity
Water’s souciant song
White as the snow still falling
Nature’s whisper: shhhhhhhh
I make my way
Down channeled paths
Wending through
Hardship and trouble
To overcome
My flow adjusts
Weaves a line
Ofttimes turbulent
While rocks and stumps
Which interfere
I push aside
With force of will determinant
And rest I may
In respite of pools and lakes
To carry on with grace aplomb
Through demise and rubble
Oxbows and diversions
Rapids and reservoirs
Confined by circumstances
Wide and shallow
Narrow and deep
Always flowing toward the light
Golden warmth which fills my heart
Reflecting on the amber stream