I trust the river
with my secrets-
the ones that sit heavy
behind my ribs,
that never quite make it
into words.
I trust her
with my pain,
how it comes in waves
that no one else can read,
how it softens
when I let it drift.
With my dreams, too-
the fragile,
flickering things
I’m almost afraid to hold,
I place them gently
on her moving surface
and watch them glow.
With my soul,
the quiet parts of me
that feel too much,
that bend and break
and still keep going.
Because she listens
without asking,
holds without keeping,
carries without judging.
She understands
how to move forward
without forgetting
where she’s been.
And maybe that’s why
I trust the river-
because she knows
how to hurtand still
keep flowing.