River Rising

River Rising

I am the roof of the world in my mind,
sheltering life in a home on the bank,
holding within me the little compartments,

holding the likes of space and time,
rooms of wishes and things forgotten,
hallways to bedrooms of fears and forgiving.

Boundaries of rooms are the lines in my mind,
But what if a flood would come rolling through?
'Cause the rain could be raining and reigning too.

The river is rising, a lake of hot rain,
dropping from heaven, on homes on the bank,
Boundaries of rooms, hold space and forgiveness,

high up on stilts, yet the river is rising,
higher and higher to wash through the rooms.
And the rain is raining and reigning through.

Those things forgotten muddy the water,
and the river rises, and washes them through.
Erasing those lines, and the space and time mixes

and become one—
and all the wishes
dissolve in the sun.