Truths
There is a river of grief beneath the world.
Horses remember the rumble of dinosaurs.
My boy grew an inch in less than a month.
My husband was a boy once with a poem in his pocket.
Bales of sweet grass wear down in the barn
to give room to the cat, to give room
to the mice.
Under the lake there are turtles. Under the lake
there are mysteries. The lake knows
all about the river of grief.
(reprinted with thanks from PoemMemoirStory, Spring 2003)
