Riversong

I carry my burden
to the river's edge
and kneeling, pour my sorrows
into its rippling murk.
The flashing waters swallow
my offering whole -
no hint of hesitation,
no judgement for my failings.


I rise, raw and clean,
and watch the rolling muddy green
bear away my shame
in its rush to the sea.
A warm and tender breeze
caresses my face,
dries my tears,
and I hear...


The river sings
its ancient song
of life and death
and hope,
of every season,
of every sunrise,
of every passing storm...


Still,
I stand
and listen long
to the soft and intricate
harmonies...


The river sings
its ancient song...


and
deep
I drink.