Another Ripple by Diane Allerdyce
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Image | Cottonbro Studio |
Another Ripple
Prologue: I told my children years ago that the Grateful Dead song “Ripple” should be played at my funeral. Now, though, I would revise the words: We know the way home. I’ll meet you there.
What do you think, my mother asks, gazing
out from her patio at the lake
behind her house: Is it wind that causes
those ripples, or is there a spring that feeds
the water from within? What’s amazing
for me is her question’s reach. What does make
the water move? Which is it for the soul—laws
that govern the heart’s vicissitudes, needs
erupting like volcanoes at the core,
setting the surface to rumble? The truth
is both, I tell her. Still waters respond.
Daybreak: a dappled scarf whose prisms pour
light and pattern, chop, silence, age and youth.
Sunset: desire’s and wisdom’s subtle bond.
© Diane Allerdyce
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Diane Allerdyce |
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