The River

 

I once sat still on a long drawn river,

A threatening stream always getting deeper,

Jagged rocks, some breaks, and rapids,

Impoverished banks,

Eaten deep filled with sand,

The water bulldozed everything in its path,

But still rang clear playing tunes from the heart,

At dawn you could see such a spectacle son,

The splash clear drops glowing bright in a hue,

I’d sit so still watch the fury that flowed,

My belly on the sand,

My mind on a tram,

When numb and quiet everything comes alive,

A roar, and a gurgle,

A pulsating ripple,

I thought, “A canoe couldn’t go down this fall,”

The river replied, “I have seen thousands fall,”

I looked all around but the sound kept on ringing,

The voices and chill,

The white water shrill,

I once sat still on a long drawn river,

And picked up an arrow deep from my quiver,

I aimed at the water and struck once or twice,

But looking back calmly,

My exasperated self,

I laughed out loud at the futile attempt,

And learnt if I wanted to go hurt myself,

I needed a person,

Not a reflection of me.