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Two Rivers

The first day-
Our voices flowed.
We were two folded rivers wondering the same direction,
It was evident.
I drifted with the lifeless bark scarring my words,
You ran with the changing colors of lost leaves, lifting your words.
I smiled and you waved hello.
We were two folding rivers wandering the same direction

The next day-
The driftwood left me,
But not all.
Your leaves grew new colors while my driftwood began to dampen,
Your lips danced and I laughed,
My river saw the creation of bubbling blues.
But we got caught and your leaves began to fall.
My bark finished drying.
You smiled and I waved hello.
As we left you clasped my hand and in two days,
My river rained.
Still, we were two folding rivers

Eventually-
Our talk was foolish, immature, and offensive.
Our talk was wet from our clashing waters and conflicted by misdirection.
I smiled, I laughed, I smiled, I fluttered, and I laughed.
You talked, you charmed, you talked, you laughed and you listened
Our talk was ridiculous.
It was stupid.
But our rivers fought the winters,
We were unfolding rivers wandering the same direction

Then-
We were not.
The winters froze our waters,
Halting our rapid flows.
Once, we clashed and our rocks made music.
But nevermore would our frozen waters wake.
I felt the vengeance of dampening bark,
I felt the dying whites of your leaves.
We were but partners-not of love, of friendship, of nature, but partners.
We were icicles too static to unfold.

However-
It was a trap.
The little room on the iceberg was claustrophobic,
But we were forced to endure the chill as two dead rivers.
We reminisced and sought truth under the breaking ice.
We smiled, we laughed, we fluttered, we talked, we charmed and we listened,
But we spoke.
We were partners,
Perhaps….
No we were partners.
We were rivers, with echoing flows mimicking the direction of the Earth.

Alas-
Our reconciliation could not withstand the summers of God.
A drought was sinking us, we were blending with the unforgiving soil that once was beneath us.
My driftwood took my position and renewed my face.
Your leaves were revitalized and breathed its homely air.

These relieved leaves spoke to me:
“The bark that was once your enemy and now your lips, was once my home and my friend.
The rivers that garnered our love have now dried, and we’ve journeyed far from the start,
Nevermore would we meet the same.”
And we were two folded rivers wandering the same direction


-- Jin B., 16