Call of the River
I stand at the bank of the river
where my father used to come,
Twilight brings him here,
He stands and watches,
Lost in the ambience,
Embraced by a presence,
He didn’t bother if I stared at him,
Or if I was engulfed with fear,
It was a refreshing time for him,
He beamed with an unusual light,
Endowed with a rare sight,
He always left inspired,
Armoured for the treasure he aspired.
I stand at the bank of the river
where my father’s feet stood in days gone past,
Where he stood like a mast,
Twilight chauffeurs me here,
I’m eased off the day's travails,
complexities and perplexities,
Hope swallows my unanswered questions,
I’m strengthened for the miles ahead,
Even though gloom still has its bed.
I stand at the bank of the river
where my father was inspired to write,
Where he was motivated to stand and fight,
All that saddled and perplexed,
He sojourned, conquered and returned,
Until the last mile.
I stand at the bank of the river
where my inspiration raptures from the rind,
I’m invigorated to find,
All my heart desires,
All mind aspires.
I stand at the bank of the river
where my midnight brings no fever.
March 20, 2023.
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