Where The River Holds Us

The river wasn’t just water,
it was the pulse under our feet,
the heartbeat of a village stitched from memory and sunlight.
We knew its bends the way we knew each other’s laughter,
each rock worn smooth by the weight of our stories.

We carved ourselves into the river,
and the river carved itself into us.
We were small gods in its shallow arms,
dancing on stones as the current tugged at our legs,
whispering, trust me.
And we did.
We let the water teach us everything

how to float,
how to let go without losing ourselves.
how to laugh until our ribs ached,
how to let the water wash away whatever heaviness we carried.
how to love and be loved back under the sky’s open arms.

The sunset burned colors into our skin,
and we sat there,
hearts pounding louder than the river’s rush,
listening to the way water knows how to sing even when it’s quiet.
We whispered promises we didn’t yet know how to keep,
but we meant every word in that moment.

The river was magic.
freedom.
It was the place where the village rules fell away,

and fear was shed like old clothes
We swam until our limbs forgot how to be tired,
laughed until we forgot the names of our worries.
we were weightless,
even when the world tried to weigh us down.

Years passed,
The currents of life brew us into the cities

But the river stayed
steady as a pulse,
a quiet reminder of the magic that never leaves,
of the childhood we left behind but never really outgrew.

_fnj