Night in the Jungle

the darkness engulfs us
as the thin riverboat glides
into the inky waters.
cool water laps at the sides
and the hot sticky day has faded
into an absolute, final night.
a spotlight searches the banks
soft-spoken words in spanish
weave through the cool air
ivory caimans slip off the mud
sliding into the dark
not before we see them
for only a second
but gasp at the beauty.
then we have stopped
floating in the middle of the river
spotlight off, the dark overpowers
the only light from the stars.
they dot the sky,
freckles on a heavenly face
forming patterns that tell stories
passed on by grandmothers
on nights just like this.
in this boat we are alone
the rest of the world so far away
we don't even remember
how much we've forgotten.
we find the southern cross
the only thing i recognize
and i wish i knew more.
i wish i knew the stories
that would connect me to this place
to this world that i float through
unattached but entwined
with those around me.
wish i knew the stories
that would make those ties
stronger, and easier to speak of.
the stories of magic and mystery.
but as we talk, i understand
the magic of what i am experiencing
what i have experienced
and i understand
that this is the story i will pass on
on nights like this.