Poetry

The Rivers Song

The river sang its song to me

That old melancholic, hypnotic tune.

It whispered to me through wild winds down cobbled streets.

I was numb.

I couldn’t feel my body so I let the song guide me.

I walked until my feet stood just above the humming river

– the fastest flowing through a city in Europe –

It gushed its water with more violence than the song suggested

I stood looking down

Thinking too hard, yet not really thinking at all.

 

I thought about how it must be cold outside

– though not as cold as the water –

But I could not feel it.

I hadn’t felt anything in so long.

This song was the first thing to permeate this black shroud

That I was already suffocating under.

The water began to foam where it slapped the rocks.

I listened to the hum of peace

Playing  with the idea that swam in my mind.

But I am not a musician – this was a tune I could not play.

This reality was not melodic.

It was painful, it was permanent.

Nobody wanted to hear this song.

This was a reality that extended outside of my own mind.

 

So I blocked my ears

And walked away into the empty silence.

I put on a dress.

I put on a smile.

And tried to dance to a different song.

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