River Man

When will this mountain move that presses out my breath, the heavy weight

of just too much? Depleted air, once sweet, turned rancid.

I cobbled together shards of dreams to form a hope.

Was what was ever? The answer is smoke in my hands, too elusive to cope.

The years coal-stains on my fingers, and now all I touch

is marred. In my mind, a clock unwinds, my thoughts

an unraveling spring. Washed away in a river of pain, I am caught.

Clawing at outstretched branches whose limbs cut,

I deposit on the banks of pity and remorse.

I know that Heaven has heard my cries, and all must run its course.

Time flies for no man, especially a worm such as I.

But such that I am, I grow legs to stand.

Shaking my fist at the sky, I demand to know the plan,

the point to taking every risk. All my wagers

now seem lost. But this cannot be the end.