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 

Red

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,

dangerous 

like someone else's hands.

But they gave way,

eventually 

to sandstone,

the canyon walls turning red

the water growing mirkier 

from the recent rain.

Everything hurts. 

Everything. 

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.