A River's Soliloquy

Amidst the golden lullabies of unfettered radiance could one find the infamous river. Melded into soft grass and natural clay did the water run; present, yet shy. Here Holland found herself- without words, yet soul singing in dialogue.

Her fingers brushed the reeds that sprouted along the riverbank, caressed by the roughness held in their stalks; one stalk lingered, slicing through epidermis into muscle-

Blood, darker than the robes of the nobles, traced down the finger, palm, wrist, outlining veins, oxygen, life-

Holland turned her gaze to the gentle water once more. Fed by snowpack from towering peaks, the cold liquid served a purpose in this landscape, as did she. For, indeed, this river allows the small, darting fish a home, just as it waters riparian vegetation and native species, from the smallest mice to cautious hares, to howling, compassionate wolves to lumbering elk, to habitual bears-

Holland’s mind turned, fixated upon life as she found her seating amongst the grasses, gaze fixated on bubbling, whirling water and the sunlight mercifully providing illumination. ‘Tis a gift, life is: to bask in the presence of such unburdened beauty, to feel emotion as deep as a well, to hold and cradle burdens purposed for growth, to find one to love passionately, just like the two foxes in the field across the river: leaping, trotting, reveling in the presence of their beloved, purely comfortable in a frightening world.

Holland folded herself backwards toward the earth, head resting comfortably amongst wildflowers and luscious greenery. The golden sunshine flickered across her delicate face; it had chosen its subject of beauty, who raised her hand to catch the light, fixated on the smooth blood tangled amongst pale skin. It would be washed away, reunited with water not unlike the untamed river in her presence, though it’d be-

Domesticated. Caged, as though to be controlled: for personal use, for benefit, for sustenance; yet, what thanks does it receive? Pollution, oil, tar, plastics, horror? The providence of sustaining liquid is denied its acknowledgement, yet continues on in merciful remembrance and grace; a provider seen by all yet neglected.

Sun striking still her face, Holland’s hand fell with the close of her eyes. Birdsong, accompanied with breeze, slid across the landscape; wrapping itself amongst her fallen limbs and aching heart. How, how could she explain the agonies-

The agonies of joy amongst shattered heartbreak? To appreciate despite being unappreciated, just like life-sustaining water? To crawl, slide through life, echoing the crimson painting a dainty wrist? For, indeed, Holland’s world expected rush amongst rush, speed and certainty, on a planet dedicated for cherishing the unexpected, for moving slowly through the mundane.

The sensation of movement stirred Holland to alertness; eyes flickered open, landing on a burnished beetle trekking across the length of her arm. ‘Twas unhurried, this beetle: Stumbling, turning, deciding, careful in movement; though lifespan short, it seemed utterly uncaring of the decay to come. Patiently did it navigate down, down the slope of muscle and bone to reach fertile soil and fresh grass.

“Thank you, dear one,” She whispered, voice carried in the soft wind. She stood, not bothering to brush off knees and legs, thighs and arms, for to carry such beauty on her feeble frame is no great weight at all. Thusly did Holland begin the trek home; to the handbuilt and painted house nestled amongst lumbering oaks and maples, a shelter in summer and a masterpiece in autumn, for-

For in loss is beauty acknowledged. In losing each leaf that is shed do trees collect and hoard praises of acclamation despite their fate; a dreadful fear awaits- the closing of growth for fortnights to come- and it is celebrated by those who refuse to empathize; in such a thought is rage kindled: desperation and grief only when relatable, when fitting.

Holland’s feet avoid tangled roots and blossoming buds as she navigates the garden boundaries; a territory utterly familiar, sparking wells of heartcry and nostalgia, though a visitor would never assume. It is all right, her thoughts console: the invisible connections of weighty burden shall not be placed upon any other- ‘tis not respectable to do so. Therefore, she plucks the tomatoes from the vine and the carrots from the earth; silent once more, remembrance reverberating of the stream, the same water that fed these plants. She steps through the door, the same floorboards creaking as she moves; a deep freezer is opened and processed deer meat is selected: a meal to be made from the same land, from creatures utterly reliant on one another.

It is with regard that Holland sits with her emotions and consumes her meal; respect fed by knowledge, reminiscent of the books silently conversing on battered shelves, books overworn from use, yet as valuable as the day they were purchased. ‘Tis a lesson she has learned, one amongst countless, that value shan't be associated with downfall, with rot-

For mushrooms, fungi, and fallen prey are as useful as the sun’s purpose-filled caress, though as undervalued as the river across the garden. May such faulty thinking never plague her family, she’d decided long ago; come hell or high water, the lands will be nourished, the waters clean, and with it, life contrasted beautifully with death. Trees will sprout, and new creatures hatched and born; but with such an explosion of cosmetically appreciated life are the fallen sparrows and scorched hillsides. It’d be loved regardless, she realized as she sipped willow bark tea; loved regardless.

Holland resisted the urge to run; instead, a lesson to be learned from the river imprinted on her soul: To ponder and appreciate, to process and to expel. Another day would come, following the rise of the moon and glamour of countless stars, and she’d value it all, incrementally, until her heart had tasted enough to be satisfied; years would fade and death would knock, yet she’d be prepared and willing enough to accept, just as the trees laid down their leaves for a fate to be repeated.