Galaxies beguile and beckon,
Mouths of black holes yawn.
I face the unknown, bent of body, but bright of mind,
Not fearing the coming dawn
Of old age that comes
To all stars, planets, and man.
I face the unknown, time sifting through my fingers
Like grains of silvered sand.
©2017 July Day
Image by Florian Steinberger from Pixabay
In her life, she has crossed many rivers.
Some she swam with sure, steady strokes;
Some she walked over on burning bridges;
Some were so shallow, she easily waded.
But fording the last one, she almost drowned,
Failed to reach the other side.
The swift, black waters dragged her down,
Filled her lungs with life’s heartaches,
Then cast her battered body back to shore;
Left her choking, gasping, gagging,
Down but not defeated.
Older and wiser, she bided her time,
Waited at the river for the dire wolves to come drink,
And built a raft from their strong bones,
Made a cape from their warm, gray fur,
Then floated across upon the cold choppy surface
And stepped off safe and warm on the other side.
She fashioned a home from the raft bones,
Made a bed from the sleek fur cape,
And she abided there in the high desert
Content and happy as she grew old
Until the time came for her to leave.
For there was one more river yet to cross.
©2019 July Day
Image by ralph_rybak from Pixabay