Driving over the seasonal sea that washes
under the causeway, river overflow
flooding rice fields before the crop is planted,
I look at the little islands with their reedy
crewcuts popping out of water.
Pulling my eyes from the road, I search
for a great egret tall on black-stockinged legs,
taking a moment’s pause in the business
of wading through wetlands, searching
I wonder what it might take to pull you out.
Could I row a small boat to where you stand,
seemingly lost in the murk?
Could I toss a life buoy down the hole
where you find yourself, persuade you to grab it,
let me pull you to the surface?
Or do I wait, breathing in your sorrow
about what has come, what is sure to come,
breathing out peace and ease?
Simply wait. Listen.
It is the hardest thing to not do.
Thanks Jan. Love the tension at first, the image of the egret and how the tension is imperfectly relaxed.
Thank YOU, Jan! I hadn’t thought about the tension and how it relaxes… good noticing!