Posted in Originals, Poetry, Reflections

The Brown River | A Poem By The Caged Bird

One second the brown river was gushing past me
Like a motherfucker
Thick as my thighs, in its carved stone channels
Making a prisoner out of my ‘free’ self
Mocking me with her freedom to move
Like a motherfucker
My eyes, my eyes could not cope up
With the curves and troughs of her dynamic self
Cursing my head for not being swift enough
Cursing my eyes for not being big enough
Cursing my feet, for being there; and my wings, for not
Exhausted, I stand by my metal prison
I stop looking, trying to keep up, trying to flow
Like the motherfucker
Staring at a stone nearby, instead
I admire the architecture of its channels
Thanking them for keeping the mud off my road
Keeping those plump pairs of feet, in crox
Safe without slipping, up the hill

The next second, she stopped haunting me
Beginning to dance for me instead
Flowing in pulses, on a rhythm of its own
I see, she is dying to keep moving,
As if aware of the raining clouds above
That could, any minute, fly away
With her water, her mud, and her dance
I stood there looking her in the face,
By not looking her in the face, for the first time
Releasing from my prisons, detaching from my bones
My mud-blood flowing down my guts, reminding me
“As it was without, it was also within”




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s