There's a river

There’s a river

that flows

just beneath the

surface.

Once held

by walls of steel,

black and grey,

iron strong,

so it swelled –

welled-up waters

fountained forth;

rapids formed;

tectonics tore;

demons stirred

and broke the walls.

So now there’s a river

just beneath the surface –

a rolling,

raging,

blue-green flash

of something

pure

and irresistible.

Storms may come

and mud the flow;

banks will break

and valleys

grow old,

but this sorrow-spun

thread, this ribbon

of gold,

will always,

always

find the sea.