Dark water, bright water
for Jan
For fear of dark water
you build a dam.
Rock by rock it rises,
paralyses. You stare and fear
a crumbling, a crushing,
a flushing of all that dark water.
Now you leave the danger zone
climb around the dam to study
dark water. It’s stagnant.
Algae clog the rim,
and is that the neck
of a monster?
Upstream a dazzle of sun
strikes running water.
It’s that old familiar river
and in no time
there you are again
splashing and paddling
cartwheels and bellyflops
midges and cockabullies
picnics on sand
king of the castle
and can’t catch me—
can so catch me
for there’s your sister
reaching for your hand.
You need to comfort her.
She needs to comfort you.
Sun lights water
shifting rock after rock.
You are a dancer.
You are not an engineer.
As you hold each other
dark water seeps from the dam
and finds a way
to meet the sea.