THE RIVER

For some reason, Sundays are turning into good days to write poems. I'm not sure why. I do appreciate though, as I've said many times before, that poetry isn't everybody's cup of tea. So if you're more of a coffee-person, you shouldn't feel under any compunction to read this or any other here, nor should I be to stop writing them. And it's lovely having a choice isn't it?

That being said, this one feels a bit like a moment. Sometimes life gives you those points where you've got to decide whether you're going to stay safe on the side of the river, or risk it all for the adventure of trying to cross it. There's no way to predict what will happen - other than the conviction that you're doing the right thing. And it takes courage to trust that conviction, whichever choice you make -  courage is a thing I've spent a long time trying to learn, and to trust...

The River

The river rushes
Wide and deep
Untameable and free
And on the bank
My soul should seek
A voice to speak to me

I cannot cross
Its churning veil
Nor sweep the torrent wide
No foot will pass
Nor heart prevail
To reach its other side

And yet I read of
Men of old, who
Stood upon this shore;
Who saw the waters
Fast and cold,
And heard the river roar

With truest heart
And courage bare
They slipped their shaking feet
And standing by
The river there,
They stepped into the deep

Each forward move
The river eased
And thin the water grew
On glinting stones
With gentle breeze
They made their journey through

The presence deeper
River wide
They crossed upon the word
For there they knew
You would provide
As those who walked had heard

The river rushes
Wide and deep
Where fear and courage swim
Your promise echoes
Strong and sweet
But still,.will I step in?