"Silence" by Alfred Joseph Ortiz

When the deluge is over, and roads again are passable,
when rivers no longer froth at the mouth
when houses finally land after their drift downstream

then we can see the debris wedged against the cypress:
small bicycle, mud-stained coat, folding chairs,
a black Impala with a man and woman reclining inside.

The ride that the waters take us on, ferocity
of current no higher than our knees --
before we know it, we inhabit a different country,

where boundaries have been revised,
where distance swallows barbed wire,
slips like a veil through our fingers,

pulls us along, until we stand at the edge of familiar
and see it for the first time. When we untangle
what has been snagged, repair the battered bike,

bury the dead -- will we remember
that particular silence, that enduring moment
when the rain finally stopped?

BIO: Cyra Dumitru has two published collections of poems called What the Body Knows (Pecan Grove Press) and Listening to Light (River Lily Press). She teaches poetry writing and literature courses at St. Mary's University in San Antonio, TX. She is also a passionate swimmer so water really is one of the worlds that she spends a lot of time exploring, even in her sleep. Email: cyradumitru@earthlink.net