By the River, a poem

Walking memories by the river

We dream for our children

resurrect the ugliest visions

a rock to dangle over sharp waters

drag a body from the river, hotly awaken.

Once a small girl strolls

along the Humber with her grandfather

she becomes tangled with death

a woman’s body against muddy galoshes

look away, he orders.

The child now a woman

her frame thickened by

the monotony of waking hours

watches, walking memories unfurl.

Imagines such a death, imagines such a life

dreams to clear pathways to grip

the miraculous strength.

Life dangles at the fingertips

a child reaches, trusts this touch

blood brilliantly roars into the next day.

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About Nor

I'm a creative non-fiction writer, with a special interest in memoirs and obituaries--life stories, local histories with flesh & blood anecdotal details. I'm also beginning to create podcasts of people's stories and expanding their audiences. I'm a diarist, an editor, and a political activist. I live in Toronto, Ontario, Canada and spend days tapping keys or staining my fingers in ink.
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