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.