THE SIEVE

 

 My mind is a free-floating sieve.  Thoughts visit,

 but none stay for long,  

            Moving on waves and rapids—floating slowly,

disappearing unexpectedly into a whirlpool,

always moving. 

Moving away from a flash of insight

seemingly important at the moment,

but escaped before I could write it down or

properly note it—make it stay put so I could examine it. 

 

Hit and run. 

Tease, just tease. 

A bit of a poem possibility—gone

before I can nab it and work it—gone

before the snippet I caught on the fly settled into a formed thought.

 

Perhaps the detritus that catches in the sieve of my mind

 is the debris I’ve been hanging on to for much too long—

past pain, past anger, past injustices—my own and others. 

Let it go.  Let it flow through the open pores of the sieve to join the river.  

Don’t let it stagnate polluting the life around it.   

Let it merge its song into the flowing stream of living water.  

Let it dance in its eddies, rest in its still pools.

            Let it ride the laughing rapids,

joining the songs of the ages

riding the river of life.