essays, poems        & stories


In the way of ourselves

by Mark Dvorak


We stop ourselves.

Each of us have a way

like a river

we must not ever

wish to enter.

To wade in,

to swim in

or even float down

like Huck Finn

on a raft

asking Jim

if he knew

where this thing

might be going.


We stop ourselves

then relish the chance 

to talk about

stopping.

To describe 

stopping,

and perhaps even

take some credit

for stopping,

knowing this thing,

this thing,

this river

is even there, 

all the while

knowing

it has always

been there

carving deep canyons

cutting through

fertile earth

ever flowing within.

Ever flowing

somewhere.


We stop ourselves, 

then cry.

Knowing the way 

of this river

is there

and has always been 

there.

Ever flowing.


We cry 

standing

in the way

of ourselves.


2.16.21

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