“The river is immense, and it has the capacity to receive, embrace, and transform.”
– Thich Nhat Hanh
I dip my toes on sleeping water,
thinking of finding your face
among the gentle ripples,
but the murky floor bloomed
slender, skeletal fingers
& a face, now disfigured.
Both father & daughter’s eyes sift
the procession of plastics, hoping
to find a missing mother,
but the river has only
carried lost memories & a lost
name carved on a nipa’s fruit.
The boy offers his body
with a dull splash, he prefers
payment in fish somewhere below,
but the river has become immense
in deep solitude. She could only embrace
him with her heavy arms.