Pools

I stepped in the stream and muddied its water stirring up silt of past memories.

My footstep a dream caught in dark muck held tight, pulled at desire's plenaries

Eddies of decay circle filling grasping depressions where flesh once was found

Currents of time carry away confusion's debris leaving neither hole or mound

In runoffs and rains enter new waters to these shores foreign and strange

Yet to a viewer's eye this living river shows no observable change

Reviews

[Thomas W Case]

This flows like memory you can’t quite hold onto—muddy, shifting, but carrying something real beneath the surface.
There’s a quiet depth here, like time washing everything away while you’re still standing in it trying to feel what’s left.

[Soren]

Thank you Thomas so much for the read and comment your words of interpretation add extra layers to this poem and are most appreciated

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Sometimes when we cannot shed the past memories or dwell on them too much, we become mired in them like quicksand and they bring us down, not allowing us to move on.
j.

[Soren]

Thank you Jacob for the read and comment that gives more depth to the meaning of this write. It is most appreciated