The Pioneer

an ekphrastic poem from Zeek Mathias' The Pioneer painting

I move through water, thick with memory,
the paddle is heavy in my hands,
each stroke carves silence
between what was and what’s to come.
​
The river doesn’t ask who I am,
but it knows who I am, knows my story,
the sweat of men who came before,
their prayers stitched into their breaths.

My boat is small,
but it carries multiple generations.
Their voices swim with the ripples,
their hopes glint with the gold reflection
that’s dancing against my arm.

​Sometimes I look behind me
but don’t see anyone--
only the wake,
slowly shifting and closing,
like time is forgiving me for leaving.
​
I do not travel for glory.
I move forward so that those who come after
won’t have to suffer.
Each push and pull of the paddle
is a promise,
a promise that legacy won’t drown,
it flows forward.