river flow

once again i’m brought,
to a valley low,
it’s here i hear a river,
pouring and roaring, o what a flow.

this must be a new river,
at least not seen as so,
i’ve not been here before,
gushing and rushing, o what a flow.

chasing the river upstream,
up the mountain, i must know,
from where it comes,
up it crawls, withdrawals, compels this flow.

blood and sweat spilled, at last achieve,
reach this source, water trickling below,
chilled and quiet, surface frozen,
melted and softened, comes a flow.

eastward, outward, to return,
down the mountain river grows,
til trickle rises, momentum builds,
steeper feeds the deeper, o what a flow.

fresh melt from cold places,
new life to bestow,
moves and carves at new paces,
alive, it revives, this new flow.

then sudden quiet falls,
my lungs fail to bellow,
it’s the silence of the submerged,
helpless and powerless, under the flow.

i can’t hear the river,
desperate, failing to swim or row,
closest as i’ve ever been,
yet receive and perceive, new to this flow.

til a break in the surface,
gasping new oxygen to stow,
struck by what was always there,
still pouring, still roaring, this flow.

now to float, lean back, surrender,
relinquish, a washing to glow,
waters of peace to rain again,
carried and married, by this flow.

i trust where this river comes from,
this living water and where it goes,
soaked and saturated,
o what a flow,
i now intimately know.