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Dancing on the Rivers Edge
PaulaARG Kernachan
Click to hear this poem read
The water is rushing around me as I play in the ripples...
I feel its cold, black power, sharp and deep all around me as it swirls
With the caps so soft and white at my fingertips…
Is it this softness I am here for? Is that the gentleness I seek in the
fear?
Oh I feel the strength of the river as I swim and toil as close to the
edge as I think
I dare go. Rolling over and around as a lone ice cube in a glass
filling with water.
The water presses down on me and I submerge…
I spring from the surface to be downed again with the constant
flow. Laughing with the buoyancy of being lighter than the fluid,
which has roared everlastingly. Is this the top of the falls of
Niagara? I think it is.
Although it is so serene up here, I know as I get to the edge
that the roar warns me yet here I am seeking the soft whiteness which
fumes
upward at the rapids edge.
I want to float in that mist. I want to be carried upward in the
arms of the great maiden.
Why do I need to wade in so deep? Why do I cling to the branches
of the roots of the trees which keep me from going over? Why do I
act and feel as if I want to go over? How am I so strong in
my
fear? How do I not know that I am terrified?
I don’t do it for the ones to see me…. No one is there but me…
I don’t do it for others to hear about it…. I twirl and twirl just an
iceberg flailing my silky skirts silently in the rivers wrath.
And there are no ears.
Only when I get to close to the roaring edge…. Then I cry…. Like a baby
I scream into the night begging yearning pleading to be
saved. The numbness at once gone and now only red I see as
I scream over and over for someone to come help me.
Still in my screaming I am not there. As still I want to go over.
I simply am reacting to the situation this human body is in.
Never forever not listening to the one my soul has placed me
into.
Does the body come first as long as the soul is in it? Does this
iced death game keep me from upward growth by securing my fears?
I am alone dancing in the glass filled with a single ice cube.
Dancing till the edge of the rapids forces my voice to scream out its
true words….
Then I call not to those I need most.
Yet how is it so needing and yearning this roar as I do….
I call those my best friends who save me from frights conclusion over
and over…
Time and time again. These are the relentless numbered few that I
treasure as my friends. Yet do they know the answers for this icy
dream?
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