Goddess of the rivers!
Where do you come from?
Who bestowed you upon this earth?
Perhaps you, yourself, know the answers to these
There is just as much of you on this earth today,
As there was when everything began.
When the world was born and acquired every sensation
We know so well.
No man overthrows you,
Yet everyone comes through you.
We all know you, or at least we thought we did,
But nobody dares you.
Water, how awesome you are!
Scientists failed to explain why your density increases
Below freezing point,
And decreases above freezing point.
I was taught that any substance contracts when
It is cooled;
But water, you do the opposite. You expand!
And I want to understand how you do it.
With the faith that you won’t confuse me.
Some people learned to exploit your uniqueness,
In a distant past.
I wonder… I wonder if you ever allowed them.
Water, wait… they whisper to my ears: that indeed you
“Just the A-B-C-D of water. You can change them in a split
second,” I said.
A mouth full of words unspoken.
An eye that sees without looking.
An ear that hears without focus.
A mind that understands without listening.
A heart that loves with no mercy.
Water! Mother of all tears,
Queen of the deceased and the survivors’ kingdom.
I dilated thirst, you contracted satiety.
Water! You soul that cleanses dirt.
Indeed, you save all the imprints we leave on you.
How majestic you are.
It is only sad how I fear you,
Goddess of the rivers and the oceans abound.
You coaxed me into never believing in the guesses
And speculations of the world.
You pulled me back like the strings of a guitar that said
I never learnt how to read music.
Never have you allowed me to fall deep into the tricks
Of this space.
Water! You soul that grieves with no comforter.
I watch as we pollute you,
And we cry when you strike back.
How cruel are we?
You roar boldly, like a proud lion.
You howl like the winds,
And cry like a wolf.
Water, a teardrop of a bleeding moon.
“Grief is intimacy, and disability is the result of it,”
This, you have taught me.