Course

Coming to this riverside,
could it be me who runs swiftly
while the water stands banked
at my attention?

Might it be like coming to
from a dream in which I am bent
and bent until bowed? But not at
some predictable end.

Jesus said, See to the hungry,
the outcast, the washed up ones.
Dear Lord, there’s so much flooding
I’m unfastened and torrenting.

What’s steadfast
if the place you’re headed
we can’t come? Why give a damn
if every table spread

floats away
until we’re all aimlessly eating
our own bread and fishes?
Funny how your last supper fixed nothing

to shore, only made us aware
of our dining alone.
Not unlike, I suspect, the way you felt
in that first and later garden

where every river was hidden
in trees unsoundly asleep.
I awoke this morning
to my own weeping, tears streaming

as if a spring of life
was trying to remind me
that everything in motion
is moved.

Copyright © 2020 by AJ Saur, from Say the Word (Murmuration Press).