ah another poem

A River Far Away and Long Ago

The river
of my childhood,
that tumbled
down a passage of rocks

and cut-work ferns,
came here and there
to the swirl
and slowdown

of a pool
and I saw myself--
oh, clearly--
as I knelt at one--

then I saw myself
as if carried away,
as the river moved on,
Where have I gone?

Since then
I have looked and looked
for myself,
not sure

who I am, or where,
or, more importantly, why.
It's okay--
I have had a wonderful life.

Still, I ponder
where that other is--
where I landed,
what I thought, what I did,

what small or even maybe meaningful deeds
I might have accomplished
somewhere
among strangers,

coming to them
as only a river can--
touching every life it meets--
that endlessly kind, that enduring.

- mary oliver