I remember this river, we've sat here before and it feels good to be back.

Again, this is, whew, to say vulnerable? It's almost, the following by the hand and the joy in observation, a translucent cloth over a patient heart and a patient mind and the virtue of patience.

Yes, the river is going nowhere, the house is built and is, the crops cycle and cycle back; yes, patience is here.

But, so to the healing. For me as the reader, it's almost difficult to see the narrator viewing the Goddess and not see an eye for one who is giving all of herself to others, to the world, to warmth and light and creative energy, and, while that's amazing to be around, it must also be taxing.

So many mixed emotions, so beautifully told - your imagery is so poignant here, like seeing a photo with high contrast and tint.

Of course, you're never one to use words without purpose, but, even so, a couple stanzas in here that were monumental:

Your laughter,
when you come and visit,
calls me forth to action,
and tells me change is possible.

and

I built you a house,
you called it beautiful,
and my act lovely.
You will not spend the night.

Styx in your basement, and you tell me that I dwell too often next to the realm of the dead =-)p

Loved this piece, Guy, so glad it's getting more comments than many of your poems I usually feel this way about. <3