3 a.m. Connections

image borrowed from bing

3 a.m. connections



as a boy
I remember watching a tug
pulling the rusted bulk of an empty barge against
the strong currents of the upper Columbia River;
the water rushing against the bow made it look
like it was going so very fast when it was nearly
standing still

I had never seen anything quite as worn and sad
as that old tug struggling upriver;
in my young eyes it looked a thousand years old
although, these years later I know
the faded lines and days laid down in silent layers of rust
were the result of the labor it did

and I remember later that same day
fishing for young salmon among
the bones and bramble of ancient tugs
where the Columbia empties into the sea;
sleeping away their eternities
in some forgotten corner of the harbor
too tired to make the journey against the current;

torn open for their parts
and bleached the slowest shade of dead
my young eyes had ever seen:

we never start out our journey
to wear away under such useless labor;
I suppose it just happens

as each wasted lifetime drifts away
in those little tatters of unconnected memory
that startle us awake in the dead hours

when stars fall in those little 2 plus 2’s of truth
we only have the courage to embrace
when darkness is perfectly complete

and the heart is too tired
too heavy

to long deny


Larry Kuechin

Posted over on his Facebook page