Floating on the river I realise 

it’s not the setting sun or the bridge 

in the distance, it’s a woman in whose 

arms lives have been lost and loved. 

The river today is not the same as yesterday

and the water snaking will be changing soon,

The river today changes by the second

yet remains the same, much like the woman

who wears a robe of consistency

yet her very soul is one of change:

a stumbling toddler and then a young girl

tripping over rocks and stones,

then a teen-ager traipsing from zero to twenty

in many roles; sweeping everyone under her flow

rebellious daughter, irreverent sister, faithless friend,

she grows into a raging siren until she rounds a bend

and becomes a mother, angry, menopausal,

divorcee, widow, a senior, the crone.

You can row along the banks or offer 

prayers at dawn, always deep within

she is the same girl, much misunderstood, 

the same girl unknown, never really known…

The river today is not the same as yesterday

and she will have changed again, all too soon.