Marvelously Alive

The current is too strong.
The waters too rough.
There is no room for survival
as it roars past.
The most solid things are broken,
splintered against rocks,
ripped from the shore,
a temporary dance of death
their only celebration.

You stand in awe, knowing
the rivers that have tugged at you,
battered you, soul against stone,
the miracle apparent,
that for all your scars,
those ugly reminders
of torn skin and torn heart,
you somehow survived.

And so you stand
and watch,
and listen.
You weep for the flotsam that passes you by,
so shattered they will never return.
You watch, and listen,
and pray and wait, but only for a moment
or perhaps two,
before leaping again
into the frothy currents
becoming again
marvelously alive.

About this poem

The picture was taken downriver from Niagra Falls. All the water from both sets of falls race down a narrow gorge, as dangerous as the falls themselves, and just as mesmerizing.

We often need to take a break from life to heal. But at some point, we need to re-engage, even when that is a frightening thing. And it often is.

Tom

Tom