Originally posted on April 11, 2011 at 11:18 AM
This poem first appeared in the the Merging Visions Exhibit compilation titled Collections I. It also won first place in the Brazos Writers contest last year. For those of you who are interested/curious, the form is called a pantoum.
River of Life
Beneath the bridge, the water courses on,
over smooth creek rocks in copper and blue.
We, on the bridge, now regret that you’re gone,
leaving us in these mountains missing you.
Over smooth creek rocks in copper and blue,
we pour out ashes of you that remain,
leaving us in these mountains missing you,
arranging small stones to spell out your name.
We pour out ashes of you that remain,
scattering wildflowers into the wind;
they float past small stones that spell out your name;
we watch them drift onward, around the bend.
Scattering wildflowers into the wind,
we, on the bridge, now regret that you’re gone.
We watch you drift onward, around the bend;
beneath the bridge, the water carries on.
© Annie Neugebauer Tilton. All rights reserved.
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