Sep 29, 2015

Inside a River


Passing inside a river, on a sunny day,
there were not lounging clouds or clouds of gray.
My clothes were tainted with pinkish stains.
How did I get inside this river? A sweeping river,
And then I noticed my losing breath in this
rushing river. I felt the angel of death in this
winding river. As I strain to see what was next,
rotten toes, strings of hair, and pieces of flesh
spooled around my fingertips inside this foul
smelling river. My arms outstretched as I reached
for help , a young lady threw out a branch
while I struggled against this crazy river.  I was
bumped and bruised from jagged rocks.
The dried autumn branches snared my coily locks
along this dangerous river.
The rocks seem to melt into blood moon spots.
I screamed a horrifying scream in hopes my
evil nightmare would leave,  I pulled and tugged
on thin threaded sheets. The presence of an angel
I did retrieve and cleave unto my breast.
In distress, I awoke soak and wet. 
Was this bed the dreadful river? The river that
almost taken my holy soul. The river who
stole from young and old. It was a cold and angry pillow.
So many triggers emerged as I shivered in
a rolling sweat.  Is the river not dead?  
Unless the river is  wide awake and lives in me.

jhp©2014-2015 






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