The Floods
The floods changed everything.
They weakened our willpower.
They erased our memory.
They watered us down.
They entered our homes and left their
invisible fingertips everywhere.
We woke up the next day believing
we knew who we were,
but the landscape had changed overnight,
things were not where we had placed them.
Our field was gone and the river
had taken over.
Our world was there but
it didn't belong to us.
The Scandal
I never knew you had it in you, girl.
You always looked so calm and controlled.
A modest little thing, a virgin river,
home to lazy snakes.
People were talking, but I
don't believe in gossip.
I had to see it for myself, how you
broke the dams and flooded the fields and
left us stranded on a hill.
Water into Wine
It was a warm summer evening
we were having dinner
there were a lot of people at our table.
We all listened to you,
though you didn't speak much.
You were handsome, in an ordinary way.
Later I couldn't recall your face,
though I tried.
I couldn't even describe you.
An ordinary face, though handsome.
We were drinking your wine and it was good.
I had never tasted better wine in my life.
I was so happy that I could just sit there and
look at you.
I knew you would eventually have to go.
I couldn't expect you to just
stay with us forever.
That would have been selfish.
It was strange to see how sorry you were to leave.
You said you'd had such a great time with us,
and I could see you meant it.
You never lie.
You said our stories were interesting
and we were lucky because
time passed so slowly in our world.
Our year, you said, would be
just a second in Heaven.
You couldn't promise that you'd visit
any time soon.
But you left the wine.
You could always make more, you said,
hadn't I read the story?
Do come again.
Nights are getting warmer and
we can sit outside.
We will slow the time for you and
let you have some rest.
It is Day 26 in NaPoWriMo. Today I used the April PAD prompt, which was to write a water poem. Something scary happened and I went binge writing and wrote three very different poems. We are having floods in Serbia at the moment, which reminded me of how I witnessed a flood once. As for the last poem... I am rereading the Brothers Karamazov and Dostoevsky is messing up with my brain. The poem itself accurately describes a dream I had several years ago. It was one of those dreams you never forget.
These are three gems! Thank you! I feel a progression from mourning after destruction to gently mocking humor to deeply affectionate hospitality. But all three share an openness of heart to the Other. The final poem's location of divinity in humanity is both inviting and amazing. Again many thanks. Lowell
ReplyDeleteThank you, Lowell. What originally connected these poems (and what made me write like a fury and create all three of them in a single night) is the place. All three "happen" in the back yard of my country house. That's where I experienced a flood once (though that flood was a joke to what's happening now) and that's where we entertained our guest in my dream. The dream felt very real. I don't know where poems come from, but we don't write them alone.
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