Monday, July 21, 2025

RIVER

 

A barge constructed

of date palm,

heat

and worry

of time

on the Nile,

flat on her back

dreaming of crows,

shooting stars

and the Louvre,

Jane pens

a letter

to her father

at home

in his bed,

he is

dying.

She smiles

knowing

there at the end

he’s fulfilled

from his living,

how he rivered ongoing

meandering,

dancing

alone

and with friends

on beaches

of sand,

whirling round

spinning through life

like an American

Zorba,

yes, Jane knows

in her bones

he’s no longer 

striving

as she basks

on the barge,

her dad is dying,

breathing the sky,

this pyramid

gleaming beyond,

how here

at the end,

he’s happy….

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