The River

It still makes me cry
to remember
the fear of us of staying
of being bound
bleakley to soil,
tethered somewhere
where it’s greyer,
with only the bliss
of our past being left
in the river to drown.

River view with a boat Sun Piet Mondrian

To find a song to make me cry is not an easy task. Amaya wants us to write something on a song that makes us cry at dVerse and at least I remember this being something to feel sorrow (or maybe fear) about.

June 4, 2019

23 responses to “The River

  1. Hi Bjorn, I always thought that was one of Bruce’s best, very sad but a classic story song. Your poem is a perfect complement to the song, captures the mood and the yearning..JIM

  2. Those last lines are amazing, the image is gorgeous, and Springsteen, although not my favorite, certainly takes me back to the days of my youth. Well done.

  3. With sad harmonica reverberating in my mind (I listen to the songs first) I read your words as an echo to the ballad. I was most moved in the song when a background singer began harmonizing and then with the later heart-wrenching “Ooh’s”. So in reading your piece, you know where the harmony is? The “we.” There is a feeling that while you may have sorrow and you may have fear, but you have each other, and though doubt may be heavy at times in life, it’s never been so to make you drown.

  4. An interesting poem and song. I had not heard that song before. It would fill one with woe and perhaps terror to remember what happened down at the river!

  5. Bruce is a good one for twanging on gut level feelings. This is one of his best, as he not only speaks to the person but the person within the context of their world. Your poem evokes that same feeling.

  6. only the bliss of our past……
    it speaks to the Gibran quotation Amaya used in her prompt. When the bliss is deep, the contentment and the love….then the loss is deep as well….deep as a river.

  7. Elemental and precise poem. Bound and tethered. The bliss of the past.. it is missed, I have tried lately remembering it as I lived it then, my own little neural tesseract. Let’s me taste some of the joy among loss. Feel less tethered that way. Beautiful poem

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