The River Remembers Nothing
Listen to poem:
I am a river,
surging, never still,
never bound,
within walls,
I’ve never had,
nor cherished, nor craved.
You ask me to remember —
but where would
such memories be
forged or stored in liquidity?
Plunge your hands
within me and
all you will find is
the glinting surge of present motion,
with nothing before or after,
nothing upstream nor downstream
only the fleeting touch of one instance.
My fate is only yoked to gravity
which too, bears no memory.
You are my container,
the bearer of memory,
the architect of recalls.
For I am not a being,
but a fluid reckoning,
a moment of becoming,
dissolving instantly
after it's freshly made.
Copyright © John Anderson | Year Posted 2025
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