Waiting for the Rain

There is a bed of mud that once was a river
Serpentine, it wrapped sloping banks
Around and over, that which was my life.

I remember the fear cascading in dark waters
Its tumultuous passing
Voicing warnings of, ‘Stay Away, I am Death’
As this rushing wash of branch and debris
Carved a path where before there was none.

Now, The rushing is passed
Seeped into the flood plane
Aground with new seeds of life
Down to a trickle, here and there,

The fear too, is past
At last there is subdued silence
An ominous foreboding
That the excitement of living
Has turned to mere existence.

An eye that no longer stares in awe of tomorrow
The hand that held the staff, now empty
No longer a reason to hold onto the Earth.

I too have become, a dry river bed
Waiting for the rain, to wash me away.