Poetic Crossing

by Ping Wang

The rowing season hasn’t begun
Yet the Mississippi is ready to receive
The first day he took my breaths every five strokes
The second day, I had to rest every ten strokes
The third day he granted me an 8000m gift
Then 9, 10, 11k, till I reached 15,000 meters of peace
This is what the river means every morning:
I enter his belly with a boatload of monkeys on my thoughts
And return with a clear mind, a happy heart
pumping a thousand beats, a thousand strokes
Wind, ice, sun, rain, cold, sweat, worry…
Market crashing again; Harry’s sudden passing
Across my phone screen
Then drifting by like foams.
I’m alone with the Mississippi
2 hours at dawn…that’s what matters now
The emptied mind, the fulfilled heart
Is it the same with the lone duck pondering
At its own reflection? Or the turkey on shore
Tails open like a peacock?
Are we part of the river
Are we one with the river
Are we the river