Triangle poems V

Upstream

From the mouth of this river

I can see forever.

But just to see it

is not to know

the gifts it

can bring

me.

Downstream

From here I see what has past

from early dawn to dusk,

meandering stream

of hearts and minds

too broken

not to

feel.

Midstream

From here I can see the moon,

in all her bright glory.

But still I can’t see

what direction

this bright stream

will go

next.

Half-mast

Is it high or is it low?

Starboard bow or portside?

How are we to know

which direction

we are be’ng

led to

go?

Solitary

Here I sit in places, still,

with rhythms full of grace.

An occupied peace

and quiet voice

that summons

me to

stay.

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