I go to the river today.
I go to the river with
All of my shame and 
Stories of non-belonging

I walk alongside her,
Her waters gushing past me
Holding nothing back.

She sweeps through crevices,
Marks her path over
Sodden stone:
Churning, shaping and 
Changing all she touches.

She has touched everything before.
She has been inside of me.
And you.
She has risen from the ground,
Painted patterns in the sky and 
Rained down upon each of our own skin.

Rivers are the places where
All of our stories collide:
Where they whirl and swirl and
Glug and ooze and pour. 

Where they swell and spill and
Seep and surge and sing.



Widening, until…

My gaze explores the moist
Mossy banks. Evergreen, 
Bare bark and buds
Tentatively emerging.

A droplet glistens.
Suspended, hanging,
Shimmering, welcoming.

I reach toward it and
Take the droplet upon
My finger, fully formed.

Skin upon skin we meet,
Skin into skin we break.

There is a part of us all in that river.