Friday, May 4, 2012

reading the water of my hand



i walk beside this river

it flows like
the lines in the palm of my hand

somewhere
in its beginning
is a distant spring
itself born
from rain
that fell in thin silver lines 
from sky to mouth
to skin

and in these quivering
tensile lines
that arc and braid

across these hands      
that have known so very much

in this palm
that flows so much like
this river

are little pictures
of me

flowing
and turning upstream

swimming against the current

holding
other currents

hiding behind rocks

tumbling over ledges

returning to the sky
to fall as rain
into the cupped palms
of you 
and then so unexpectedly
and gently
drawn
to the mouth 
of your soul

2 comments:

Linda said...

Oh, this is a love poem, so wonderfully meandering through the soft flowing lines to the source. I love this Steven. Thank you for sharing.

aguja said...

Steven, this is beautifully penned with each word in the right place at the right time to create the enchantment.

I have sent you a kindle voucher.