River
Your rush is just
A faint sound
Through woods and thickets
Of ages past
I see your bottom
So clear, so fresh
As if my reflection
Whisper its longing
I kissed you and drown
Myself in memories
Cooling and freshens
My thirsty soul.

Yours is a drop
Of my perspiration
Salty, tangy from miles
And miles that seem to be
Endless
Squeezing yourself through
My mind of longing.

And here I am
Listening to your rush
Of life-giving, thirst-quenching
This soul-immortal.

I long for you as I walk
With my bare skin
On your dry and torrid bottom
Feeling your feverish stagnation,
Like myself.

I bring myself back
To where I plunged
In your womb to cleanse,
To freshen.

And you are my rebirth
As I feel you,
My whole and every part of me
Engulfed in your all might
In my communion
Healing the wounds.

But yours is dry
And sings no ripples, no more
Yours is but scorched
From the heat of high summer
And no music at all.
Condemn my wretched soul.