Creative process poem: Northern Waters

When he was young
the river called to him
in a clear green voice;
making him promises,
telling him stories,
and unveiling possibilities.

The river hears, sees,
and understands all;
and it spoke to him in
voice that required no hearing.

Near the shore where
the bottom was clear
the river revealed
some of its stories.
A landscape of the past
beneath the surface —
rocks, trees and remnants
of human history,
frozen timeless on the bottom

But the river keeps much to itself
out far, in the depths of its waters,
where the images are
the darkest and deepest.

A continuous molten mirror,
the river glides green by day
through the landscape,
reflecting the reeds, rocks
and trees along its shores.

By night, black and glistening
it supports the stars and moon
that cover its nighttime face;
it slips silently by,
undisturbed in its dreaming.

The river never tires,
but waits in patience
for new and returning believers.

And so today he has come back
to again hear the river speak
to resolve the intentions,
to realize the promises,
to finish the stories.

— Dennis Mellersh

 

 

 

 

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