There are always mountains and waters to cross;
rushing small rivers over rocks, eddying around boulders,
flecks of white foam swirl into lace geometries,
fly over themselves, get in their own way
as if they were children tumbling down a hill
screaming with laughter; they bump into each other—
anticipate danger within the thrill of abandon.
I am not dissimilar— my history rages and calms,
I lose my footing in flooded estuaries of memory
filled with history’s residue whose remnants
clutter the berms of my protective levees.
The water is loud, drowns out voices of wood nymphs
who warn of joy and danger, tell me don’t try to cross
on slippery algae laden rocks, tell me it is folly;
on the other side there are darker, thicker woods,
steeper climbs to the top, treacherous slides down.
I am stubborn; take paths remembered in dappled sunlight
filtered through long gone leaves as the scent of pines,
their needles dry underfoot, swish soft in recall.
I follow the sound of water even as I know the danger
of listening to Naiad’s songs culled from sadness,
lost loves and times that can never be recaptured.
Then I think of when there was ice on the river
and everything stopped: crystal covered trees,
white mountain tops made my beliefs seem real;
that was before the cities claimed me.
Now I look to the horizon and recognize
there will always be mountains and waters to cross.
Charlene Stegman Moskal
I’m published in numerous anthologies, print and online magazines including, “Calyx”, “TAB”, and “Wild Roof Journal”. My chapbooks are; “One Bare Foot” (Zeitgeist Press), “Leavings From My Table” (Finishing Line Press), “Woman Who Dyes Her Hair” (Kelsay Books), and a full length poetry collection, “Running the Gamut” (Zeitgeist Press).