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How I Go To The River
(After Mary Oliver’s How I Go to The Woods)
I go to the river alone,
at night when no one watches.
I do not want to be seen undressing,
my flesh and clothes
hung on rough hands of wild oak.
I melt into moonlight water,
cool and gentle caresses
against my bare bones.
A ritual no one can take from me.
I take
big gulps of night air.
One would think
I have been starved of life,
and maybe I have.
If I ever held your hand,
if I led you to the river,
I must think you saved me.
MClarice
This is hauntingly beautiful. It feels like a secret, like something sacred and deeply personal. The imagery is stunning...undressing in the dark, water on bare bones, gulping night air like it’s survival. There’s this quiet ache woven in, like the river is both an escape and a confession. And that ending? If I led you to the river, I must think you saved me. That lingers. Absolutely mesmerizing.
labellawrites
Thank you!! This is such an incredible comment.