Flowing water open portals.
whether closed or open, they become free.
Free of feeling, thinking, oblivious to knowledge.
Why am I crying?
Drops of glee, grief, enmity, even when drowsy.
Bottled water preserving them over years.
The pit fall, the pitiful — cork high and bottle deep.
There is so much in the rush, but slow to accumulate.
I am not weak, I am strong !
There has been weeks in years, I’ve held on
When I listen to this song, when I see that face, when I smell the fear, when I taste the salt —I stand tall.
Bursting out into tears like a fire-hydrant.
I’m my own river, cliche, denial.
For crying out loud, don’t be so quiet!!
Say something, at least the most you can say is ‘nothing’..
Flowing water opens portals.
whether closed or open, you become free.