The River

I'm in deep. 
This is where I am.
Deep in the murky water.
Deep in the canyons of my transformation.

I ride the rapid river
that carries me onward
roiling with my own anger, 
with my own deep grief,
like blood staining the water 

But why would we have these things
if they are not the river that rolls us onward 
toward the sweet places that we seek,
the places of 
deep green and 
clear mellow waters 
and sun

As the river pulls 
I watch as the walls around me change. 
First it was obsidian, 
black and glasslike
the sharp cliffs,
like someone else's hands.
But they gave way,
to sandstone,
the canyon walls turning red
the water growing mirkier 
from the recent rain.

Everything hurts. 
My body feels like one big bruise
So purple and green it has trouble containing my blackened soul

And yet, I ride the river.
And the river rides me. 
Far away from the prying eyes of the world.
We thrash together. 
Flow together. 
Flinging ourselves over the rapids
to further break apart 
the pain
Like stones that we carry in our current.
That we've carried for much too long. 


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