If Souls Were Rivers
I’m your life’s embankment; the wrong way street.
You’re the mighty river: the containable rejected.
Edging away my banks, indifferent to the cold or heat;
you’re life is an erosion project left unprotected.
You take a piece of sand here and a dirt clod there;
engulfing and dragging it along to the mouth
of the ocean; mixing me in with the debris where
plastics, paper bags, fishing lures, all float south.
Things once held in people’s very hands, thrown
out in disregard, now unneeded, or just lost
in the current by a false promise; a catch never known.
I look upstream of your soul at your thoughts’ cost.
I see your frustrations in swirling pools, vortex of mind;
hung up on things that I, floating, am forced to leave behind
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
