Lamar Howell's Weblog

I want to own
a piece of the river where I grew up,
just so I can be on my own land
near the water’s edge.
There, to touch the smooth stones,
to listen to the water breaking over the dam
and cascading into waves and suds.

I want a build a cabin, a retreat near that river
where I can be a child again.
This time I’ll be care-free,
and rediscover its wonders.

What is drawing me back to that river
in a homely nearly-abandoned town?
Once I’m settled in
this longing may pass.
Then I may yearn for the place of my birth,
to go back there
and see the grasses blowing in wide fields
resting, held fast by orange clay.

There is no river, only springs
my father once told me about-
Coffee springs was the name.
Perhaps the water is brown
like the name of the county
‘Coffee County’
But for now I have no sentiment
for Alabama.

I want to go back to Deep River
and feel its pulse in the heart of North Carolina

That’s how old the child
trapped inside me is right now.
But, the child is getting younger.