I sometimes feel
Swept away in a river,
Arms flailing, trying to stay afloat,
Drawn down and away
From the bank
Where soft grasses
And small flowers
Drift past, as my body passes
Rolling gently,
Impotent in its inundating powers.
I cannot see.
There could be a kindly tree
Dipping a branch where my weak arms could catch it
And clasp, catching my breath,
Ready to climb
Up through the rushes
And fall on the ground.
Or, as evening hushes,
Night sinking,
I may disappear in the widening water without a sound.
