She is searching for herself,
like a river for the ocean,
through the canyons of the
Tiger Leaping Gorge.

Twisting in the Lilies
of the Caledonian Forest.
In golden sways of countryside she pours.

She is searching for herself,
all the while creating meaning,
’round every bend and
down each avenue explored.

Rushing down the valley,
In rings and ripples,
Her hand-built galley,
she serenades through babbling brooks
she freely forms.

She is searching for herself,
for she hears, “Happiness you find.”
But what she didn’t realize yet is
they’re already intertwined.

Gently she curves,
with the movements of the meadows,
stirring earth with a
calming gentle touch.

Every sandbank, every riverbed,
is shaped by her settling sediment,
rocks smoothed flat as paper
in her clutch.

She is searching for herself,
so some parts she leave beyond.
But as a reminder she breaks pieces off,
Turns that water into ponds.
There she’ll sing with birds,
perched in branches all day long,
chattering with woodland creatures,
there to drink with song.

Quenching thirsty buried roots,
She burrows the muddy core,
of a Grandmother Tree,
the oldest there-known,
and then lifetimes from before.

She channels herself,
through the empty canals,
from places never seen never known.
She rages the beach pit,
as a freshwater misfit,
to the ocean front, low and behold.

To her surprise,
when she’d settled in the sea,
one day she was ripped away.

Lifted in breeze,
gliding with ease,
afloat for 9 to 10 days.

She’s searching for herself
but what she thought
would be her answer
now has left her
with more questions day to day.
Alone she’s moving,
if she’d believe it.
Where they’ve had her,
again, she’s needed.
For everything,
She brings to life,
within her wake.

Now through space,
gracefully free fallin’,
anchoring herself as fresh dew drops on Holly.
Misting sweet nothing’s,
drifting in the air,
tickling as she lands upon,
the rim of a furry new ear.

Pindrops on leaves.
Mushroom caps shielding fairies.
Sprinkling between branches,
soaking each floating aerie.

She makes her way down,
creating veins on forest floors.
Back to the streams and creeks,
where she started months before.

Back to the lakes……………….. that wade into the ponds,
returning to the muddy brook,
to hear the New Bird song.

Back onto her Rivers course
now renewed from waters salt.
Removed from the oceans comfortable current.
Even it must now exalt.

She was searching for herself,
not-knowing,
her meaning is in her flow.
She was searching for purpose she had all along,
Little did she know.

Hey you guys! 🙋 Hope you’re all having a phenomenal weekend! Thank you for stopping by! 🏞️🏞️

36 Replies to “Like a River.”

  1. Meandering prose
Winding amidst the valleys
Of life’s twists and turns—
Through eddies and pools
Oft muddled of clarity
Carves our sweet ramblings—
    In other words, nice work. Loved it.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This might be my favorite poem you’ve written yet. I truly loved every single image portrayed. I see the grand ol AR River daily, and this poem is a beautiful way to think about her! Love this, love you.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. This is so beautiful Stephanie. I love the imagery that water invokes. Not wanting to always be that person who links my stuff on your stuff, but I love the science you weave into your poetry here, and there was quality to it that reminded me of the water cycle. I wrote a short piece, which is not really a poem, but also not really a story per se that was inspired by the water cycle and just through you might enjoy it.

    https://cloakunfurled.com/2016/09/20/where-silence-reigns/

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much!! Never worry about leaving links, I LOVE reading others writing! I can’t wait to check this one out!! There is something about water that is so renewing and romantic. Thank you so much for reading! Im glad you enjoyed it! Headed to your link right now!❤

      Liked by 1 person

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