as i went down to the river to pray

Even the river moves slow today
As if she feels my lethargy
Like she too is overwhelmed and burdoned by her reality
To whom can she give her burdons?
With whom does the river share her fears and secrets and desires?
Where does she lay her weary head and cry her heavy tears?
Is there a shoulder for her to rest upon?
Are there arms that will fit around her wide banks
Lips that can cover her open mouth?
Hands that will caress her slow curves?
When she has had enough who will follow her twists and turns
Climb over her rocks, wade her boggy shores and brave her rapids?
Does she flow aimlessly praying that just maybe after the next bend someone will appear just in time?
Does she find comfort in the leaves and sticks keeping time with the rhythm of her flow, using her energy to make it to their next destination - or do they exhaust her?
Do the falls and dams build her up? Or drain her?
And does she love me as I love her?

As I come to sit by her side day after day, year after year - add my tears to her body and ask her to carry my fears and burdons down stream - praise her beauty and peace and thank her for her constant presence. I wonder, do I give her as much as she gives me or am I just one more creature taking what I need and leaving her to struggle on alone.

Does she know how much I need her?
How here by her side I can make sense of this crazy world.
Pray as I can pray no where else. Find patterns in the chaos and peace in the insanity. Here I can find purpose and meaning; regroup to head out and do whatever the world and my family and my God require of me.

The water is almost still now.
As if she heard me.
As if she stopped to make sure I know that she is always here - and I am always welcome

And she knows