Poetry Reading
Yesterday I was privileged to take a short tour with the end prize being a glimpse of the Tennessee River. What a sight. This river got to me. I was raised near the Ohio River and was never moved by its sight like this. Maybe it was too readily available, too brown, or I heard too many stories about it.
The perceived innocence, or sweetness, of the Tennessee River boggled me. This morning I decided to read into it here:
What a story I found. At first read, this is what stuck with me:
Long forgotten purpose unknown~
wild and unruly eluding the obvious.
Opposing forces brewing in your belly~
not contained on a whim for beings.
Not succumbing to navigation~
you flowed on in your own right.
Powerful and meaningful you stayed~
until one day called for a purpose.
The fight went out and you were done~
wrangled for a higher meaning.
As I studied the river yesterday, still and free, I had no idea that it's conflict of whirlpools and rapids kept if from navigation. For awhile, it was free to do its own thing. Until another purpose came to light and it was captured. In that purpose, it appears still and soothing. That knowledge turned me to write more:
Your curvy stillness relieves me~
the magnificence of your presence.
Soothes my deepest conflicts~
I feel the consternation undercurrent.
It irons out like a wrinkle under heat~
a path to a clear mind and heart.
Your gentle, easy glide flows steady~
reminding that steady is attainable.
If I live like a river with easy flow~
glide and roll regardless of the bend.
Tennessee River I see your force~
Slithering smoothly between hills.
A force setting troubled lives free~
I want to let your flow run through.
Escaping from the mundane none~
reflecting what timing can do.
Anything.
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