The river leans close,
its voice soft against the stones.
It speaks like it knows me
like it’s held my heart before.
It reminds me of the stories I’ve misplaced
secrets that lived long before I did
It says: don’t rush,
every twist has its reason
every drop will find the sea in its own time
I sit at its edge,
listening
feeling my own seasons reflected in its flow-
The waiting
The growing
The letting go
It hums a steady song
and I feel the weight inside me lift.
I let go of what clings too tightly
trusting the current to carry me,
reshape me, renew me
And in the river’s silver arms,
I finally breathe
I finally heal
-Kutlo