A River Bend

January 27, 2014

I stammer against the rail of the bridge

No shoes, no attachments

My voice hoarse, my eyes dry

The tears a trickling faucet once impulsively driven

I grasp the rim of the bridge for support

Staggering to catch my breath

I notice a river bend across

Meandering towards the fresh stream, I falter

I pull the earth close

The fine dirt knarled in my fingers

I do not cry anymore

I am startled by another

Her presence strikes me; her beauty untold

It was said her face is not like the other

She had no place without the delicate skin, the elegant hands

With the other’s dainty complexion, her’s

Had no place

I peered over the moss and cupped

A modicum of water into my rough hands

The hands of years of effort and error

I could not help but examine her visage

Her Eyes

The puffy clouds of despair left as

A reminder of the end

Who is she? Rather, who had she become?

Was independence such an intolerable question?

Was individuality a capricious measure?

In the reflection she stood up

She pinned back her shoulders and slightly elevated her chin

The linings of her face melted into a rosy expression

She recovered from the trance

From the spurious reactions

And smiled

As I walked away from the river bend

The earth returned the glance

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