MY RIVER, YOUR BRIDGE

I float and spin with the rage of the open water
Bruising my body over the stones in the way
Faster and faster I must go; I need to move
If not speed of light a second slower
The split wood in my bleeding hands
It does not suffer me I suffer it
I require it to sting me through every drop of blood
To live, to feel, to know and to continue
The living creatures I share this moving sphere with
They are the outmost lucky ones
They feel no pain and they understand no injustice
Though they understand survival and its immediate results
I understand if a bridge does not come soon enough
I will float even after I am no more amongst them
Other than my flesh and bones perhaps serving
As their dinner, come all to eat my flesh
I may at last carry a meaning.

9.2.07

For Victor