River
The river of my childhood is now a trickle
Where only the essential flows,
Some names and meek memories
For age taints and tatters,
Weakens and forgets
My mind feels like a barren land,
Bleak and dry,
Right after the drought
Craving for the seedlings of reminiscence to be sown,
Unsure of whether they'll even grow
Remembering how my father held my hand while I jumped with both feet in the water,
Or how I soaked my brother to the bones, that time we waded the river,
Or how my mother yelled at me for swimming till late night
When drought strikes,
It's not only the knees that become feeble
The synapses suffer too
The heat of the present sets fire to the past,
Burning my childhood soul,
Drying up those bitter-sweet memories
A lost enthusiasm,
A buried reason to live,
A carbonised innocence,
An ever-growing nostalgia,
A sail boat without the water
Or this river across which we can stand and still have dry feet,
No more jumping, no more wading, no more swimming
Just as heart-wrenching and eye-watering
As those plants on the banks,
Once green,
Now yellowed,
Wilted and withering,
Hanging close to the ground
Waiting for until carefreeness to fall,
The river of my childhood is now a trickle
And I miss everything which existed before
Where only the essential flows,
Some names and meek memories
For age taints and tatters,
Weakens and forgets
My mind feels like a barren land,
Bleak and dry,
Right after the drought
Craving for the seedlings of reminiscence to be sown,
Unsure of whether they'll even grow
Remembering how my father held my hand while I jumped with both feet in the water,
Or how I soaked my brother to the bones, that time we waded the river,
Or how my mother yelled at me for swimming till late night
When drought strikes,
It's not only the knees that become feeble
The synapses suffer too
The heat of the present sets fire to the past,
Burning my childhood soul,
Drying up those bitter-sweet memories
A lost enthusiasm,
A buried reason to live,
A carbonised innocence,
An ever-growing nostalgia,
A sail boat without the water
Or this river across which we can stand and still have dry feet,
No more jumping, no more wading, no more swimming
Just as heart-wrenching and eye-watering
As those plants on the banks,
Once green,
Now yellowed,
Wilted and withering,
Hanging close to the ground
Waiting for until carefreeness to fall,
The river of my childhood is now a trickle
And I miss everything which existed before
Leyanah Appadoo is a young poet based in Mauritius. She holds her own writing website under the URL zelevhub.wordpress.comzelevhub.wordpress.com and has some of her work published with scars publications.