flowing river, rich and purple as velvet in the electric night.

i have walked, sat, played, sang, smoked, prayed, danced

beside this river

my whole life.  i have watched

the seasons and the skylines change, the students come and go,

the loves and losses of my life played out

from opposite sides.  this river

cuts through everything.  it sings

this too

shall pass.

this too

shall endure.

meandering river, curling this way and that way

like a sine wave pulsing across the land,

Newton, Watertown, Cambridge, Boston,

a dozen towns farther to the west

strung along the banks like beads on cord.

this river was what brought

the first settlers, Wampanoag,

who fished, hunted, held festivals

on these shores. 

later, the river drew Europeans,

my father's ancestors, and yours,

to build their city

and their university

here.

slow moving river, dark and calm,

reflecting neon lights and moonbeams,

opaque to my gaze,

showing me only

myself.  but also

on this ground

you and i

saw one another

through the fog

of fear and shame and doubt

and over-intellectualized bullshit.

the river brought us here, too,

to the place where our love courses

in and out of time

carrying us home

to the sea.

murky river, rich with silt

and sand, bearing the stains and scars

of overuse and abuse, of pollution

and waste dispersed through your currents

like heroin in the veins of a junkie. 

resilient, the river

survives.  fish, geese, rats and humans

still swim in these waters.

every spring

there are festivals

and in the fall

boats from all over the earth

race across the waves.

we two

also survived, with scars

and sickness,

through seasons hot and cold

and hard and easy lessons

to stand here together

celebrating.

endless river in perpetual motion

from past into future

like moments of my life,

leaving me to wonder

what happens to moments

when time wears away memory

like stones worn smooth 

by the flow.  past lives,

past lessons

dissolve like smoke rings

in a strong wind.  everything

that exists in time

runs out of time.
all talk of eternity

and infinity, of destiny

and fate and reincarnation

and divine grace

aside, i love you

always

here and now

in the eternal present

that opens ever outward

like ripples when a falling rock

breaks water.

burbling, singing, laughing river

lapping at the shore,

turning every rock and branch

and bit of garbage

that interrupts the stream

into an instrument, every waterfall

into a symphony. 

our obstacles and challenges

also inspire

songs we sing to each other
and songs we sing alone.

voices stretch, soar, reach

for notes higher,

deeper, purer

to harmonize with

river song.

06/04/08