The shoreline of the river was hauntingly familiar

Traces of the flood

What was. . . .

Were seen two-fold

One had a foot hold

The other ever so bold.

I was asked to take the first step

Would I accept?

Or fall back in line -- I would rather have crept

Would angels intercept?

Swords drawn

Just before dawn.

It’s the first tactic taught

I would pace up and down

All along the shoreline sought

Looking for a crossing fast

From the past

But nothing in this world lasts.

My eyes looked for yours

But in the haze of the morning

And the rising sun burning

All I saw were visions of grand illusion

My mind in a state of  disemboweled confusion

In front innumerable legions.

I felt like David before Goliath

Minus the courage -- without the faith

Empty shepherd's bag -- sling in pocket

The shoreline of the river was hauntingly familiar

Traces of the battle

Lie in -- the stones that cried out -- to be picked up.

DWB ©2009