the rush and lull of waters

Safe Journey / A River Of Repose

I did not howl,
instead gave myself to the river,
to the slow rotation of cello sounding
a lament as I floated toward god knew what,

noticing for the first time ever what lay below the surface,
what the sky above beheld, the shores passing by laconic,
leaving behind the familiar and familial sedimentary layers

of soft, crumbling sentiment,
of ash covered disappointment,
of ancient, fossilized contentment,

the rush and lull of waters
both threatening and soothing
all in the same uncharted stretch,

the reeds crowding banks,
where I left my dreams buried,
whispering, waving while wishing
safe journey down a river of repose.