The Source
©1999 by Susan Noyes Anderson
If I had words to wrap around
those mommy days and mother years,
I’d hold them in my hands and say
that nothing ever disappears.
But I can’t seem to feel the page,
and all this stuff just moves so fast––
in bits and pictures, fading memories
of an ever-fading past.
My life is turning over now;
it’s tumbling down a hill of time
and every stone unearthed rolls on…
No looking back, no saving climb
can make tomorrow yesterday,
can soften chin and jaw and cheek;
my smile is no more universe;
my eyes, though warm, they do not seek.
A river runs and so it should;
I would not have it change its course,
but as it rushes to the sea,
it also leaves behind the source
