Let Love Do The Rest

 Let Love Do The Rest
 ©2020 Louise Gallagher 
 Sometimes, when I sit and watch the river flow past
 a piece of flotsam will suddenly appear
 floating along its surface bobbing and weaving
 as it passes by. 
 I sit and watch it float past 
 until it is carried away 
 by the water’s constant current
 to a deep and distant sea.
 Sometimes, when that happens, 
 a slice of something from the past 
 will come untethered 
 from the banks of my memory
 and get caught in the current of my thoughts
 like a dark and foreboding limb of a tree
 torn from the river’s banks
 floating just beneath the surface.
 Ripped from its roots
 this something that has laid dormant
 in a dark corner of my mind
 will weave and bob and contort itself
 calling for my attention
 as if, now free of my memory bank
 it deserves to have its way with me.
 Lost in its struggle to gain possession of my attention 
 I can become absorbed by its writhing contortions 
 and lose all sense of direction
 as my peace of mind is drowned out
 by the cacophony of its insistence
 I let it pull me through the narrow rapids
 of its discord.
 I must choose...
 To throw myself into the chaos of its turbulent waters
 in the hope that once it has had its way
 it will return to the depths
 of my memory bank
 and lie dormant once again
 throw myself into a river of self-compassion 
 and let Love do the rest. 
 In love, the memory floats 
 like a piece of flotsam
 bobbing along the surface of the river
 carrying it away
 to a deep and distant sea. 

9 thoughts on “Let Love Do The Rest

  1. An excellent analogy Louise … with vivid imagery, and I love your finale
    “In love, the memory floats
    like a piece of flotsam
    bobbing along the surface of the river
    carrying it away
    to a deep and distant sea.”

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I’m – once more – wahaaaay behind – but nevertheless, I (just) might be catching up, slowly. One of the tremendous advantages of my (not terribly) advanced age is that ‘If I can’t find the time and leisure, the peace and contemplation, I DO NOT HAVE TO comment’…. What a blessing that alone is – I now can close my computer w/o having ‘done everything that needs doing’ because ‘tomorrow is probably another day’. No more working commitments, the liberty of doing as much or as little as pleases me, not even the meals are bound to a certain hour. With HH working 3 days from home, we sometimes have brekkie at 10 or 10.30 and lunch anytime between 12.30 and 3pm…. I’m flexible to adjust to his online-meetings which also have a spectacular range of unlikely hours.
    And there, coming to your wonderful poem, I absolutely NEED to know at which river in A you live. Where you have pieces of driftwood at the shore, tree trunks ripped off their roots and other floatsam – it’s SUCH a vivid and quite wonderful/wondrous painting you create here… I simply can’t find the words to thank you for this! You have a great, warm and cosy space in the corner of my heart – forever.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Ahhh Kiki. You are like a breath of wind stirring the leafless trees gently as if to say, don’t forget about spring. It will come again and you will unfurl your leaves and remember how to dance with me.

      We live on the Bow River.

      And may your ‘rutsch’ into the New Year be gentle and loving and full of unexpected excitements unfurling along your way.

      PS — I love how your day sounds… quite delightful!


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