What a relief to sit by the waterfall
and let my mind go like this, each thought
a bubble rising from the bottom of a pond
I remember sitting on the sofa in my grandparent’s house–my day care center–watching television with my grandfather.
When the captain got old
and sick, he had the same
nightmare every night
I’d been up all night with a broken heart and saw him.
Skull deformed, one eye larger than the other.
Then back in his truck and gone before the rest of us were up.
My mind is weighted toward sorrow
and I feel unbalanced when I walk.
There are old rooms there, certainly,
that I’ve now abandoned, with their coffee spills
and unmade beds…
God help me, I don’t know where I’m going.
We hold each other’s hand like children
finding our way home among the closing wolves.