In her life, she has crossed many rivers
Some she swam with sure, steady strokes
Some she walked over on burning bridges
Some were so shallow, she easily waded
But fording the last one, she almost drowned
Failed to reach the other side

The swift, black waters dragged her down
Filled her lungs with life’s heartaches
Then cast her battered body back to shore
Left her choking, gasping, gagging,
Down but not defeated
Never defeated

Older and wiser, she bided her time
Waited at the river for the dire wolves to come drink
And built a raft from their strong bones
Made a cape from their warm, gray fur
Then floated across upon the cold choppy surface
And stepped off safe and warm on the other side

She fashioned a home from the raft bones
Made a bed from the sleek fur cape
And she abided there in the high desert
Content and happy as she grew old
Until the time came for her to leave
For there was one more river yet to cross

27 thoughts on “Rivers

  1. The depth of emotional content through metaphor is palpable and breathtaking. And to find a safe haven (with the parts that others bring to our life) before the final crossing is the best that any of us can do. Excellent post, Cathy.

    Liked by 3 people

  2. Your thrilling river flows with beauty, yet has turbulence, as well. I have a feeling my knuckles will turn white from clutching onto the boat — a wild ride is in store, I’m sure! I’d best wear a life jacket. Hypnotic poetry, Cathy. I loved the rush! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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