The Same Stream, Twice

Striding, like a happy child

Squinting up at the gaps in the canopy

And whenever the trail lends a nook toward the stream

I sidle over and pause for a few breaths

.

–When was this?

.

Was it today?

Part of me is still there

And the years that have passed are just an interruption in my daydream

.

I remember a quiet parking lot

A humble path, a gentle rush of water

A small heaven, opposite the decay and insincerity of an expiring world

.

Those walks I took

Those moments I felt so fully, without trying

How could I have left them so far behind?

.

I remember when there was always time for a walk in the woods

.

And now, to see that little stream again, I would travel

I would schedule a leave of absence

And only take “yes” for an answer

I would book a flight and I would rent a car

.

But it wouldn’t be there, would it?

.

The leaves might still crackle and the birds might still sing

But my old knees would falter

My troubled thoughts would wander

And I might say, “This place has changed.”

***

I didn’t have this in mind when I wrote it, but afterwards, I decided that this poem is a meditation on the saying:

“You can never step into the same river twice, because it won’t be the same river and you won’t be the same person.”

This saying is credited to the Greek philosopher Heraclitus, whose original words were:

“We both step and do not step into the same river, we both are and are not."