Poetry

摘要

A great sadness, as long as life, as nameless as the flow a river makes, its source so distant no one mentions it much- the river is simply here & always has been, whether swollen by snowmelt & rain, or languid, gathered into pools by droughts. Even deep beneath its bed it flows invisible, lending life to every green tree whose witness reaches deep into what's beneath. No one dares to build too close.Only bridges or ferries may cross as roads as its tributaries widen out to fill salt seas. For as long as I can remember it has drained ten-thousand sadnesses running here & there, great & small, its arteries & veins pulsing through the meat of my sustained life. When I sit very still in the quiet of a day such as this,I can hear it coursing over memories.