Friday, April 30, 2010

Untitled Poem

Among many other things, my father taught me how to read and write English. Everything I've ever written starts with what he taught me. Now as he lies dying of cancer, I wrote this for him. Say a prayer for him.

All of my thoughts
Like river drops
Together making up me
Like a river that flows
Until it throws
Fresh into the salty sea

All rivers meet that end
No matter what they pretend
Or how many bends they make
And so it will be
With every drop inside me
No matter what path I take

So you may ask
The point of the task
To meander toward the salty end

But don't we all know

Drops become vapor and snow

From which new rivers descend