Here is a little background to this poem. I have been noticing a dichotomy between people who strive to get ahead, to achieve, to reach their potential and those who accept what is handed to them, doing the bare minimal, and not achieving their potential. Of course, I am generalizing, and there is a danger in generalizing, but for the sake of the poem, I simplified my reasoning about the complexities of life.
I tend to be in the group that achieves, and sometimes it is difficult to stop, because stopping means death. Anyway, I came across a passage about the river from a novel, suggested recently by a member of a forum, and it inspired me to write this poem about the river.
River Becomes You
River becomes you, flowing softly,
shearing life’s rocks, hard edges,
surrounding them with love.
Liquid love.
River becomes you, pouring serenely
through your veins, filling you
with creative thoughts.
Lifting you high.
Yet, you sit on the sidelines, watching the river,
as your dreams pass you by,
fearing loss, hoping for a better future.
Not moving.
When the river stops flowing, then
it will be too late.
Patty Apostolides, May 30, 2025