Thursday, September 15, 2011


I can only imagine how far a river has gone.
Under bridges, past the trees,
It is constantly flowing.

It hits a few fallen logs,
Big rocks, turns in the path.
The rolling waters continue on.

The time comes it hits the rapids,
Tossing and turning, it is beaten,
Grasping everything in sight.

But it keeps on flowing,
Under bridges, past the trees.
Never stopping through every rough.

Then when the disruption is ceased,
It finds that quiet place,
Slow, shadowed by a willow tree.

Sometimes we want to stay in bed,
Not moving, afraid of the grief before us.
All we want is to give up and forget.

But maybe we should be like rivers,
Never hesitant, never stopping.
Just pushing through.

Under bridges, past the trees.
Fallen logs and giant rocks,
Cross the rapids, down the falls.

We keep on flowing.

And only then will we find the quiet place,
Slow, shadowed by the willow tree.

1 comment:

  1. Nice Tessa! Is that the poem from english we had to write?


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