There are rivers everywhere
many are just out of sight.
The ground is told to be ashamed
for the home it gives these rivers.
Because of that
the ground tries to hide it’s rivers.
The ground covers its imperfections
with anything it can.
It covers these rivers not because they aren’t beautiful
but because they have ravaged clean canvas.
If you look closely at the soil
you will see hundreds of these little streams.
They are deep in some places
but shallow in others.
Their color can be that of blood
or the color of scars not quite healed.
These rivers are not just at the surface
for they come from the depths of the soil.
Taking years to fully carve their place
and take a lasting toll on the ground.
I am my own piece of ground
with rivers flowing freely.
They cover my body
engrained in so many parts of me.
These rivers show me where I’ve been
and where I will go.
My rivers have faded
from scarlet to peach.
My rivers are permanent
and I struggle to find their beauty.
My rivers are seen as ugly
so I try to hide them.
My rivers are not talked about
because I am told they are shameful.
My rivers stretch across my body
and carve at its banks daily.
I have tried to dam the waters from flowing
but new paths just keeping appearing.
Yet, through it all I have learned from my rivers
that beauty comes in all forms.
My rivers are beauty
in its purest form.
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 6:01 PM UTC
There are rivers everywhere
many are just out of sight.
The ground is told to be ashamed
for the home it gives these rivers.
Because of that
the ground tries to hide it’s rivers.
The ground covers its imperfections
with anything it can.
It covers these rivers not because they aren’t beautiful
but because they have ravaged clean canvas.
If you look closely at the soil
you will see hundreds of these little streams.
They are deep in some places
but shallow in others.
Their color can be that of blood
or the color of scars not quite healed.
These rivers are not just at the surface
for they come from the depths of the soil.
Taking years to fully carve their place
and take a lasting toll on the ground.
I am my own piece of ground
with rivers flowing freely.
They cover my body
engrained in so many parts of me.
These rivers show me where I’ve been
and where I will go.
My rivers have faded
from scarlet to peach.
My rivers are permanent
and I struggle to find their beauty.
My rivers are seen as ugly
so I try to hide them.
My rivers are not talked about
because I am told they are shameful.
My rivers stretch across my body
and carve at its banks daily.
I have tried to dam the waters from flowing
but new paths just keeping appearing.
Yet, through it all I have learned from my rivers
that beauty comes in all forms.
My rivers are beauty
in its purest form.
I know I haven't posted in a long time so I thought I'd come back with an old poem that I love.
Request permission to use this poem