The river is both change and sameness
It’s an endless new beginning
from its birth in raindrops, rivulets and streams
through the rush of waterfalls, the sluggish
movement under bridges to its ceaseless
death in being swallowed by the salt of sea.
But for a dragonfly
its change is more from weather than from
flow of water.
The river is its home, a source for food, a library and grave.
It’s the dragonfly that’s changed, the river is the same.
A river is a book.
We read it, and we travel from its birth to death.
Meandering, cascading, we widen into lakes,
we grow and grow until at last we reach its end,
and feel like dying in the waves.
But when we shelf it, dogeared loved and broken
words remain unchanged and we are changed
Today we have a guest at dVerse poetics who prompts us to write about rivers. It could be as metaphor, it could be mythology. The choice is yours. Come and tell us of rivers.
March 21, 2017