Gifts of the Storm

Gifts of the Storm

Sitting one day

by the river of

the mind

I see there

must have been

a great storm

upstream.

Maybe it was

long ago.

Now brush

and detritus

are washing

past

as I sit

and watch

silently.

I know what

it’s like, to try to swim

in those waters

so often battered by

the things washing past –

the pain of memory,

of what has been held.

On a clear day

it seems obvious

I’m not the swimmer

nor the clatter of

thought and e-

motion

but the stillness

of the air, the land,

the water and what is

beyond

all form.

~ Vishwam Heckert