The River

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

I have seen the desperation, despondency and fear as huddled masses step into the abyss of the cold and winding specter of their dream. I have felt the draining energy of their despair oozing through the pores that expose their soul. The fertile valley beyond the river’s bank a witness to the nightly ritual played out under a moonless sky. I am the river that flows along the border’s edge. Nature’s promise beckoning and enticing. I am the river.

THE RIVER

By Al Garcia

I have seen the desperation, despondency and fear as huddled masses step into the abyss of the cold and winding specter of their dream.  I have felt the draining energy of their despair oozing through the pores that expose their soul.  The fertile valley beyond the river’s bank a witness to the nightly ritual played out under a moonless sky.  I am the river that flows along the border’s edge.  Nature’s promise beckoning and enticing.  I am the river.

The paths along the river’s edge littered with remnants of forsaken anticipation and expectancy.  Abandoned hope and dreams sometimes left among the rocks and stones leading to the water’s edge, because of fear and terror of what may lay ahead.  The thought of not returning or not reaching the other side a constant companion and antagonist.  The river, frightening and deceiving when finally approached on a moonless and windless night.

Once within my embrace, I sense the reason for their flight and for their fright.  Their pounding hearts and trembling limbs tell me more than I want to know.  There is a darkness beyond the blackened sky that accompanies them across the watery path.  Their trembling stares into the night unveiling a gentleness and softness that cannot be hidden beneath the damp and soggy clothing hiding shivering bodies and quivering minds.  The river intimidates, frightens and threatens.  Yet the will within their hearts and souls drives them further, deeper into the bowls of my caress.

I am the river that divides and separates.  I am their hope and the purveyor of their dreams.  They fear me, and they embrace me.  I am their bridge from hell to the promised land.  And even I can feel the rush of fear and sense the adrenaline of expectation within their pulsating hearts.  And I feel the sadness as they struggle to survive the current and the stirring winds that suddenly appear.  I am the river, and I feel for them as I try my best to guide them with my gentle rolling waves.

What courage it must take to sacrifice a life, much less that of the child that clings to his mother’s slippery back.  What courage it must take to know the hate and hostility that may await on the other side.  Visions of a dream, becoming a nightmarish reality always the possibility and probability.  But still the human instinct to survive and to thrive through all adversity.  And I am the river, and I can sense and feel the beating hearts and frightened souls, as they make their way across my cold and dreary flowing tide.

And I see and hear and feel this on moonless, windless nights along the Valley that lays beyond my river bank.  I am the river.  And even I can feel their pain.


Submitted: May 27, 2021

© Copyright 2021 A.Garcia. All rights reserved.

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