A lake of souls, unfathomed,
uncertain, gentle, without impatience.
I walk the shore, through rushes and mud,
a startled ibis rises, wingbeats deafen me.
Now, when ghostly waters press,
the swamp weeds choke me.
I left a skin there composed
of lost memories, mine and others.
Yet nothing composed is ever lost,
I have just forgotten in my impatience
and discord, ever after, obsolete
when nothing is all that’s left behind.
Sources of inspiration for this collage include Theodore Roethke, Raine Maria Rilke, Mary Oliver, Louise Glück, Adrienne Rich, and Jessamyn Johnson Smyth who developed this technique of poaching lines that ignite the imagination and playing with them to make a new poem. This is my offering for dVerse’s first birthday celebration of poetry.