poem

 River SplitIt ’s best to think of thisAs the river that splits.What was one, is now two Keep it a secretNo one will ever know It ’s always the same riverRiver is just a wordThat describes water fallingWhile everything else is standing stillRiver by nature takes the route Of least resistance,Often mistaken for a lazy winding But it feels like a ride A simile for time A metaphor for everything you ever missedSometimes you ’re drifting forwardSometimes it seems the shore is lapsing awayWhile you ’re frozen in place Either way it takes youTo the end of your lifeAnd then it keeps going Obstacles change nothingFallen trees, walls of stoneJust another unfortunate gashAnd whether the first divergenceOr some 10th derivative branchingIt always thinks of itself as the one river A man far downcurrentSees many rivers but optsTo put in from your shore He names you somethingFrom the words he knowsAs if you belonged to him In fact, many ships may useThese tributaries for passage It doesn ’t matter. We are the water There is a path leading to the desertWhere the sun slowly broils you awayTo a mud cracked flatI ’m a dark cloud drifting now Hoarding my waterRefusing to rainPatiently waiting for a breeze To guide me westward Where ocean is waiting It ’s too late to become a river again  Do you remember the wordI used to call you? Even the river once lacked a name 9/24/23

Source: Buckeye Surgeon - September 24, 2023 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs