'I am a River' was a piece that just came to me during a seminar. We were to imagine ourselves as a body of water and then write a piece that pertained to whatever came to mind after the meditation. I chose to take a strange position, and wrote from the River's perspective.
I am a river. Mighty and strong.
Life giving, but also life taking. A young girl is pulled under by my powerful current. She doesn’t want to be so entwined with me, tighter than a knot of string.
I see her often, sitting under the pine trees by my shore, just listening. Always alone, but not today. Another is present but unnoticeable. When she slips into my arms, he is there. He is always there, a guiding hand on her shoulder, though she never notices his presence.
The flailing halts after a while, and I feel her just… stop. Brown eyes open and look at me, my crystal body flowing into her. She breathes me in, choking at first, becoming one with me. Soon her lungs even out, there is no more air for her.
Because she is a river now.
Does she see the fish flitting around her feet? Does she feel the cold embracing her heart and mind? She is falling away from the mortal world, into the dark, and I am sad when I see her eyes go blank, yet happy that we will be together forever in an everlasting embrace. She is sinking slowly to the sandy depths, but then she is rising quickly, strong arms tugging her into the air.
The stranger pushes and squeezes her lungs until she coughs what little bit of me is still one with her onto the sand. She shivers with cold and the blue-eyed man wraps his jacket around the unconscious, but breathing, girl and calls for help. When others arrive there he thanks them for coming so quickly. But while the men are gently lifting her into the van, I am the only one who watches him slip away, leaving her in his jacket. I feel sorry for her, knowing that she will never get to thank him, but happy, knowing that she will never forget the angel in the green-wool jacket.
Can I move past her? I continue on, yet try to linger in our spot, waiting for her to return to be with me once more. Waiting, always waiting. The animals, my friends whom I see everyday, are the only ones that come to greet me anymore. I decide to go. There is nothing for me here but loss.
But then I see her, stalking warily towards me. It is raining and it is obvious that she came to see me, not wanting to be afraid any longer. She is wearing the jacket, the symbol of her savior and also of protection. She sits under the pines, breathing in the scent of honeysuckle that is muted by the heavy smell of the rain. I see him, still there, still watching, ready to jump in to help her when her steps falter. She knows he’s there, but makes no move to greet him. She only sits there, talking silently with me like she always did before.
All is well now, for I am a river. Mighty and strong.