Murmur of the River

  Like the veins in our body transporting life, the river flows…
  passing through the earth’s veins
  ever changing, always breathing with the endless flow.
                                 
  Each stone is a story--rolled over, unturned or left untold,
  each grain of sand is time past and time present,
  as for the future,
  not even the sands of time will let you know.
                               
  He murmurs love songs
  when passing fields where men and women toil,
  sings a lullaby when barefoot children play in the meadows
  hiding and seeking at inviting shores.
                                 
   As seasons pass
   the river keeps pulsing and dancing around the bends,
   he flows, he burbles, and carries on…
   in continue devotion he runs, sings and hums,
runs…runs…
   till the hour comes and he becomes the ocean,
   --the ocean where his journey ends. He knows!
                                 
   Turbulence may disturb your sleep,
   yet, waters subside giving calm to a gentle tomorrow.
   He’ll carry your sad tears when you weep under stars
   and invite you to sit by his shore
   when you need some console.
                                 
   Say nothing, just listen! He’ll murmur!
   but if you cannot be at his shore, he’ll come to you.
   Your mind is fertile your heart is wild
   and the river, same as you, has a soul,
    clear and free—like a child!

                             
       --Bernadete vdw, '24