If Memory A River

Each day I go down to drown myself in a river.

Oh, the ethereal wind that stops me.

The contiguous sky, the contiguous sky

and the burned smell of sage brush and damp elm trees.

Not any of this be your body.

Not any of this bring back your life.

But to become your body again,

a consistency to be human.

I forget and return to the river again tomorrow

when the gray dawn breaks

and the lasting scents of winter drive me

from my pain

for a mirrored sense of ritual.

The river says,

“Go and be mortal. Have the heart of the

deer and rabbit. Collect today, learn what

cognizance is. Learn to love. Look and breathe

and sleep. Your memories will be like the moon

floating high in the daylight. Some moments will

be special and some will be out of place.

We will save the Earth. This Earth, it should be

saved.”

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