The River and a Boat

Jessica rows a boat

‘Can you row?’
Jessica asked the pilgrim
her head resting on arms folded back,
Her eyes fixed on grey sky as
The temple backyard slides
down the Marbled steps
kissing the stream run,
rosy feet splashing water;
her hip and the neck loving
the curvy bend of steps;



Small boats budge distantly
Noticing a little boat’s
Arrest on a long purple pole
Tied by a dirty rope
tipping up and down
At ebb’s force.
The pale young moon
Paying a view
of an insipid flicker.


‘Can you?’

‘Yes! I can;
Though I am not a pilgrim’


‘A pilgrim need not know
How to row a boat?’


Her astute eyes grasped
The point.


As he followed
Her to enter the boat

She said,


‘I am the stream
Rowing a boat.’


The oars tore the water
Making waves.


‘No’


‘Then?’


‘You are a river;
I am a boat’

A wave flipped.


‘Every river
Runs to surrender’


‘Yes’


A brief silence.


‘But no boat....’


‘No. All boats chase'

'Timely.'

A Fish jumped.


‘Think of
The end of
Any river.’


The oars went
Idle.


The wind and
The waves and
The stand still
Boat


Everything
Listened to
Her breathing


He needed
To drink
The tears


But…
Impossible.
How much..
How much..


The stream goes
On and on
To meet
A river of no time.
So much …