(recording available: river-amber-bones.mp3 )
in a dream, i found a river, in a forest, primordial, silent
even the creatures, mindful, moving slowly, noiselessly
only the sound of the waters, giddy, rushing, and gleeful
over rocks, against the banks, running, running to the ocean
weary and sore, i rested…. stretched out and
let my hair dangle like reeds in shoreline eddies
i closed my eyes and dreamt of soft breezes, of a kiss
i lived many lives as i lay snuggled
against earth and lost in the currents
some happy, some sad… a beggar, a fishwife,
a bandit, a bishop, a nurse, a nun, a child
many more than i recall but they came to me
they gave their tales in the wet whispers of the river
i gathered their stories in my dream,
they were delicate, like fishbones, bleached by time
i gently took them and placed them into
a wooden box that only just would fit in my pocket
i carried them and listened as they whispered and rustled
against one another until, all tales told, they fell silent and i,
i felt the weight of it like dead things, rattling, emptied, and hollow
taking them, i roamed the many worlds until i found a canyon
in my dreaming it seemed a safe and loving place
starlight and lakeside, all things in their right place
calm throughout and by the lake, there was a dock
i set them there, in the box – ancient stories, past lives
they seemed content for they sighed, only once and then — nothing
i set them there to rest, in pieces and in peace
while i explored and looked for reasons
for them, for me, for it all
eventually, returning, i released them into the lake
watched them settle into silt, watched their
pearly glimmering, glowing softly in clear, calm waters
i sigh now because i thought the canyon was safe
but what is ever, truly safe in all the many worlds
i lost more in that canyon than i can remember to say
the entrance is barred now and even my memories are fading
the only thing left, this small piece of amber
warm and heavy, in the box, in my pocket
as i lay here by the river and dream
it used to glow, but no longer
and what warmth it held is fading
i do not remember why i came here
nor do i know why i cannot seem to leave
sometimes it seems it would be better if i did
for the dreaming is darker and more sad of late
i can feel myself flowing out into the river
my body sinking slowly into the banks, the soil
it feels like coming home, unfurling and expanding
i will be glad when there is nothing left
no memory, no wondering, nothing but the sounds
of rushing waters and wind
when even the amber that rests in my pocket
returns to nothingness