I Like the Way the River Flows

 

I Like the Way the River Flows

(“He opened a rock, and water gushed out; it flowed like a stream in the desert.” Psalm 105:41)

It wasn’t really a ghost town,
it was simply that no one lived there I wanted to know.
Gravity never forgets. You may not see your halo,
but I do. You were sun and moon, but all you knew
was black sky, battleship clouds, sad eyes, and
never ending rounds of chores.

But me, I’m just here for the conversation.
I know you cannot hear the river lapping the shore,
do not feel the wind of seagull wings,
do not see the river flowing endlessly,
do not feel there is any river at all.

Still, I am just here for the conversation because,
I like the way the river flows
when you speak.

You were not certain of the river at all, but I was.
I have seen it flow through you.

It wasn’t really the badlands,
it was simply the angry way the hills burned red.
Sanity never forgets. You may not see your daylight,
but I do. You are the butterfly with yellow wings,
and all you knew was the black and brown
caterpillar, the autumns leaves red as blood and
the winter freeze ahead that broke the late buds of roses.

But me, I’m just here for the humanity.
I know you’ve heard the night’s gentle song,
felt the kiss of bonfires,
seen the children who laugh at the same things that
amuse you too,
and felt mortality like a night on the town we wish
would never end.

Still, I am just here for the humanity because,
I like the way the spirit flows
when you speak.