Third Time, the River
Six figures, one trail, and what the water has been holding all along
South Portland…
the river holding its long breath through the trees
a rare light laid across everything
a second surface
I step in
the trail closes behind me
a place that holds the outline of whoever I was here
the ground takes my weight
keeps it
bark underfoot
splitting softly
wood
water
time
released in fragments
the path moves
I follow where it has already gone
something precedes me
waiting inside the green
the way tone waits
inside a throat
a streak of blue tears the upper branches…
Steller’s jay
arrives
disappears
arrives
its call breaks once
then opens
and she is already there
Nina Simone
balanced in the high limbs
voice moving through the bird
the sound widens
holds
leans
leaves turn
one by one
the river shifts its pace
the path bends
light gathers low
holds close to the reeds
Langston Hughes
crouched at the bank
hand beneath the surface
listening
water moves around his wrist
as if continuing
he looks up
nods
returns
the canopy lowers
light arriving in thin coins
Billie Holiday
standing inside one
gardenia holding brightness
stillness precise
her voice moves through the understory
touching fern
touching shadow
the low places keep it
a tree stands slightly apart
bark drawn
released
drawn again
creases holding light
James Baldwin
grown upward through weather
face set in the grain
words move inside him
as fire moves through a controlled burn
the trunk answers wind
with a shift almost seen
deeper in
old growth
distance between trees widening
Toni Morrison
standing where the forest organizes itself
a bird lands near her hand
waits
moss deepens at her feet
light alters
slightly
around her
the trail opens
water spreads into view
currents crossing
without touching
John Coltrane
ankle-deep
horn lifted
sound pours forward
bends
redirects
notes travel the surface
dip beneath
return elsewhere
the current takes them
carries them through everything
a line forms…
thin
exact
drawing nearer
to its own origin
until the sound
holds itself
from the canopy
Nina descends into it
voice meeting horn
one field
the jay calls
the air releases them
I sit
water shifting its skin
again
again
light gathers
releases
gathers
and then…
a face in the motion
Emmett Till
formed in the surface
held there
eyes steady
the current passes through
without disturbance
image loosens
returns
loosens
each time
closer
fourteen
held in water
that carries
everything stills
canopy
river’s edge
air between notes
Nina holds
Coltrane lowers
Baldwin tightens in the grain
Morrison closes her eyes
Hughes lifts his hand
Holiday remains
the river continues…
bark underfoot
aligning
grain finding grain
curves answering curves
water folding over water
a shape
almost forming
wind through leaves
a pattern
repeating
I stand
the trail already carrying
third time
and something gives way
quietly
the step I take
lands before I take it
the river moves
before it reaches itself
and whatever passes through me
keeps going
