LIFE
I Got Caught Between the Quiet and the Storm
While contemplating the stream of life along the river’s edge
My village sits in between two rivers. I’m a riverman. The water has always resonated with my heartstrings. They call on me. I’ve written many of my poems on the muddy banks near my grandparents’ home, where I grew up.
Yesterday, I went back to some of my best childhood memories. I drove once again to the remnants of my memory. I wanted to gaze at the lavishing beauty of the river. I missed the water, and I wanted to bring some of it back home with me.
The river child returns
There’s a place near my grandparent’s place where the waters have telluric healing powers.
On my way there, I drove past the old house, and couldn’t avoid the wave of nostalgia engulfing my heart. I spent seventeen years within those now derelict walls.
Trying not to look back, I kept going down the slope and left my car in the empty parking lot. There’s a steep stairway that spirals down to the riverbanks. I can hear this thunderous roar from afar. But the luscious green landscape is what first caught my eye.
I remember it all too well. I have the best memories of that balcony over the river…
