The River

Have you ever met The River?

Not just any river
Clear when close yet murky from afar 
Cascades off softly into the distance
A mist that is persistent in blinding me, finding me wherever I go
More like mirror
Less like fog
Reminds me of a dangerous mystery 
And all this - still
Stillness, still distracted 
Focus on the river 
This bank 
Of opportunity to cross the river
But demons that look familiar 
Dance at my waist
I cannot cross them

Have you ever met this river? 
It almost suffocates I can't think this through
At the edge of my mirror
Staring into my fears 
Horrors hell house
If Horton heard a whooo
It would probably be a hell hound 
But who will be the predator 
or prey I've yet to decide
I see why I'm at The River 
This solitude can be crushing
But escapism is a catch 22
When it happens in you
My soul runs to the bottom of my feet
 or to the back of my head
Trying to find a deep corner to lurk in.

I couldn't describe depression 
Even if Annie Wilkes told me
Get to working 
The clock is turning 
And I am still 
In bed
But I'm in, The River
And it's not a dream
Neither nightmare 
Just a catcher in the REM
Tell me, have you meet this river? 
Without a chill, you'll shiver 
Fingertips swell and shrivel 
The downstream is swift
Currently, my strength would drift
Weighted and baited 
The convenience of being distracted 
With hardly a human interaction
This River invites me to decay 
But I eventually resist and pull and uplift. To cross all this. 
Strength will be enriched 
Demons exorcised
The river can still be crossed
All is certainly not forever lost. 
Yet there will be a time when I have to cross once again. 
Have you met it? 
The River. 


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