Skip to main content

The River that Runs Into Every Sea

 Sharing as part of The Sunday Muse #167 and in honor of old friends.



We came to the riverside in high school
Everything was laced in myth.

We listened to our steps
We found some remnant acorn
We went home and thought about:

The last time we'd find the boat

The last time we'd laugh over pizza

The last time we'd roll our eyes over Roger

The last time we'd have a sleepover

Or maybe we'd think about tomorrow
Let the myths flow out, taking their lace
On a tidal lurch strong enough to drag
That old boat into heaven on the river
That runs into every sea and port and planet;
Night, herself, as all the waters there are dark.

We came to the riverside in high school
And walked until we found the boat
And drifted on from there.  

This is the month for Camp NaNo. If you're not familiar, Camp NaNo is a choose-your-own-writing-project-goal month associated with the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) organization, which just means that--for me--this month is something of a thinking-about-high-school month because my project is a restructuring of an old novel. Or, just a structuring. Not a draft, just a month to get organized, refresh the characters, what have you. I'm hoping it will lead to a draft in the very near future but right now it's just making me think about high school Entirely Too Much. Much apologies for what that may mean for this month's prompts (sorry, guys!). 

Hope everyone is having a good week! Happy 4th to those of you in the US! 

-- Chrissa

Comments

  1. Fascinating Chrissa. Good luck on the draft!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Moments in time captured that lead to the sea of life we come to know. This is gorgeous Chrissa! I love where the boat took you! Glad you are doing Camp NaNo! You may not know if, but you inspire me my friend!

    ReplyDelete
  3. You have captured time in your beautiful poem, Chrissa :)

    ReplyDelete
  4. Chrissa this was a real joy to read - unique and full of surprise
    "Everything was laced in myth.

    We listened to our steps
    We found some remnant acorn"

    ReplyDelete
  5. And after the bonfire on the beach, swimming, and that big mean fish. ;-)

    ReplyDelete
  6. Wow, this is fantastic Chrissa, a story laced in such amazing imagery
    Happy Sunday
    Thanks for dropping by my blog today

    Much💜love

    ReplyDelete
  7. You took the challenge, turned it on its head, rolled it all over the place, cooked it, ate it ... I loved it.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Beautifully crafted and takes us with you as the river of life pulls you along.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Those last times can get sentimental.
    Nicely told, Chrissa. Sounds like you are about to join our crowd.
    ..

    ReplyDelete
  10. I admire your response to the prompt, the flow from memories to metaphor ~

    ReplyDelete
  11. The last three lines are so full of nostalgia for the past, while the future hovers, uncertain... very evocative of change from child to adult which everybody has to cope with in their own way.

    ReplyDelete
  12. Chrissa, there is something reassuring the quest you describe when you are with friends. There is a feeling sorrow that things will not continue as they have been.

    Favorite lines:
    "the river
    That runs into every sea and port and planet;
    Night, herself..."

    ReplyDelete
  13. Changing from a high school perspective to what comes after. Well done, Chrissa!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

By the Roadside

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #260  with much appreciation to Carrie & Shay & everyone. Just a reminder: if you have a poetry book, please drop a title in the comments. My TBR won't thank you, but I will. :)    I drive by the armadillos, dead where they fell. Sunlight is so heavy it folds into damp shimmers. All the roads are widening, dispersing the ditches, Grinding out parking lots, killing slow steps. I speed up; crisp winter in the passenger seat. We will arrive at the store soon; I will drag her Chill, into the store. Breathe for both of us. Brightness distorts the lots, now grown gigantic. Roads need blood, the state needs the kills. We will make it through barriers if we wear them: Dead armadillos, caliche dust, gunmetal sunshine.

Turn Away

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse , for #193. Turn away, like the moon, listening... Listening to the planet that rumbles with a hundred million slaps. All the feet, all the rockets, all the  pistons in the cars on the asphalt over the chasm where the veins run deep, blue in sunlight, black at night. Running over the chasm.  Once or twice they ran to you. Once or twice they ran by. Greetings and salutations. The sky is an entertaining shade of concrete yellow as the rain promised earlier in the week makes good on its arrival. It's a disturbing bright sallow sky, the kind of sky that puts you in mind of old movies and degraded film stock and the pops and crackles incidental to the main story.  Several years ago I made a resolution to journal more and last year I came across a video that suggested I actually re-read those journals, at least those of the previous year, at the beginning of each new year. Technically, I have kept the journal resolution, making daily notes in...

The Soul and The Spine

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #195 . Come and share! When it blew out the candle, It began to speak, voice low,  eyes dimmer than flame. Jenn believed, once upon a childhood (she's still there... but it's waning), it inhaled fire. Spines, tonight. Gears ladder bones and metal and plastic, all that lived, rungs to heaven. Heaven is a level of space where you can't breathe  so they used to send the dead. When the flame goes, it takes our memories with it. But not bot files. Maybe it believes  she'll sleep easier if bots go breathless, too. It continues murmuring and she pretends she's hearing a confession in a box Like the song her mother plays when the dark stretches  between signals We can handle shocks. She can handle the dark, the small  not-flame of its eyes. It's finally winter!! Which means bitmapped frost on the roofs, cold mornings, and a table full of succulents that are pretty much glaring at me because the kitchen window isn't the same as full su...