River Man
Searching for Hope in Hopelessness
When will this mountain move that presses out my breath, the heavy weight
of just too much? Depleted air, once sweet, turned rancid.
I cobbled together shards of dreams to form a hope.
Was what was ever? The answer is smoke in my hands, too elusive to cope.
The years coal-stains on my fingers, and now all I touch
is marred. In my mind, a clock unwinds, my thoughts
an unraveling spring. Washed away in a river of pain, I am caught.
Clawing at outstretched branches whose limbs cut,
I deposit on the banks of pity and remorse.
I know that Heaven has heard my cries, and all must run its course.
Time flies for no man, especially a worm such as I.
But such that I am, I grow legs to stand.
Shaking my fist at the sky, I demand to know the plan,
the point to taking every risk. All my wagers
now seem lost. But this cannot be the end.
About the Creator
Daniel Cole
Author and artist, I'm finding my spirit again late in life. Old passions for poetry borne of love, loss, hope and pain, things with which everyone is familiar.
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