Friendships

Friendships

…the summer’s growth kept me

anxious in planted rows, I forgot the river

where it flowed, faithful to its way…

I could not reach it even in dreams.

                                                                The Heron

                                                                Wendell Berry

While I slept the ocean took everything

the river had

to offer without discretion or asking how or

where.  It came everything all that way

long through the woods

and it dredged and drug with the rake

of its tribute: curved fingers and arms

and all the yesterdays all the centuries

                dropped, lost, sloughed and cast off:

                bodies, bobbles, broken boats, and this one: 

                                                                                a bayonet:

                                                                                (though this

                                                                                buried deep after

                                                                                the battle is just now

                                                                                with silt coming

                                                                                and going 

                                                                                rising and falling and one

                                                                                particular winter

                                                                                thick near to the bottom              

                                                                                with ice, come spring

                                                                                thaw in places

                                                                                like claws beneath

                                                                                the water

                                                                                it pulled through

                                                                                the way a farmer might

                                                                                pull through the winter

                                                                                on those first days of spring

                                                                                with a rake or a hoe

                                                                                swung to the bottom

                                                                                as far as it all

                                                                                could sink or go

                                                and though rusted

                                                almost all the brittle water flowed

                                                and brought it over stones and a heavier bottom

                                                and stuck it

                                                in the root of an old tree

                                                who’d felt everything

                                                even men

                                                dying against her and in her

                                                so a sword was nothing

                                                new and look

                                                it was so abused by time

                                                all the chuff of the handle

                                                all the river rocks notching it

                                                like days and days

                                                like age

                                                                and though it will never make it

                                                                to the sea

                                                                stuck here in the roots

                                                                the ice-out exposed

                                                                can’t you see what I can see:

                                                                                those  roots

                                                                                coming up to meet it

                                                                                growing

                                                                                and so shy at first but coming up

                                                                                all the same—they can’t help it

                                                                                really, and listen:

                                                                                                all the long talks

                                                                                                they’ll have once they get

                                                                                                acquainted

                                                                                                they’ll have the whole spring

                                                                                                summer and through and through

                                                                                                into fall

                                                                                of the living and the dead

                                                                                they’ve seen coming and going

                                                                                                                or for the sword

                                                                                                                gone through
                                                                                                                all of what its gone through                                                                                                                        though it was

                                                                                                                years and years, centuries 

                                                                                                                really and that first or                                                                                                                                second

                                                                                                                year he’d confessed

                                                                                                                to having to kill a man—

                                                                                                                                and then men

                                                                                                                (and for the tree

                                                                                                                still

                                                                                                                living pulling it all it was

                                                                                                                compelled to pull

                                                                                                                from the river, all the dead

                                                                                                                and dying up through

                                                                                                                her roots and into each finger

                                                                                                                each branch-hand

                                                                                                                each leaf into the canopy

                                                                                                                and be obliged to drop it all

                                                                                                                come colder weather.

                                                                                                                And both say this matters                                                                                                                          more, most: the warm backs

                                                                                                                of lovers the soft women—

                                                                                                                firm men--

                                                                                                                                (but the tree she was                                                                                                                                  as shy

                                                                                                                                as the bayonet who                                                                                                                                    only knew

                                                                                                                                one way: straight:                                                                                                                                      though the blade—

                                                                                                                                when it wasn’t                                                                                                                                            rusting

                                                                                                                                                (yet it was                                                                                                                                  always rusting)

                                                                                                                                could still in her own                                                                                                                                  mettle swirl like                                                                                                                                          the smoke

                                                                                                                                and coals it was                                                                                                                                          forged

                                                                                                                                in)

                                                                                                                                and rather than being

                                                                                                                                jealous they were                                                                                                                                        being

                                                                                                                                truthful

                                                                                                                                and some years on                                                                                                                                      the little rust

                                                                                                                                and some years on
                                                                                                                                the little root-hand

                                                                                                                made the whole tree blush

                                                                                                                and the people saw

                                                                                                                and complimented

                                                                                                                though under their breath

                                                                                                                because they had their own

                                                                                                                blades

                                                                                                                                hidden deep

                                                                                                                                hidden miles away

                                                                                                                toward an ocean maybe, 

                                                                                                                miles and miles.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    away.