Rivers

By Tanvi Hegade

I walk and walk and walk deeper into the woods. Pass

tree after tree, the twigs

twitching under my feet. Dappled

sunlight lighting the way, but only barely. There is no need

for a different, better moment. There

is

no

need

for

a

different,

better

moment. I keep telling myself.

I feel

more than hear the river

gushing close by. What would it feel

like to be one with the river?

What would it feel like to be

the river? To be full to the brink, to flow over and beyond the banks. To change even as I occur, to head toward something bigger than myself, to create, destroy, carry, forge.

To recede and make space.

To swell and engulf.

Do rivers feel the need for

a

different, better moment?

Or do they only like to gush, and gush, and gush?

By Tanvi Hegade