The river knows.
She withholds no secrets.
About all she has seen as she flows,
She spills the beans as the witness.
The fact that her speech is incomprehensible
Is a completely different matter.
As absurd as it may seem, this is possible –
All rivers have a voice that chatters.
Rivers also remember.
Not just the route they take,
But the people and events they encounter.
Memories are formed in their wake.
And when she can take it no more,
Her lyrical gurgling turns into a roar.
Waters rise as they overflow
In an effort to purge all that they store.
Then, everything in her path is cleansed
Even if it means resorting to Death.
Men, women, children, and animals
All succumb to their karmic debt.
When the floods subside, Life goes on.
The ones that are lost are forgotten.
The river reverts to her peaceful form
Preaching away to those who can listen.
wordsofhope 