Salty Stream Poem by Puloq Arafat

Walked-ran-stopped..
And then again walking along the river side.
Watching river tides.
Trying to count the tides..
But this was barely impossible to count.
Seeming that I am a river,
Coming from a mountain stream..
And I am poking the two banks.
My roaring tides are breaking the banks.
Haphazardly I am flowing on to the estuary..
To meet the salty ocean.
Clinically this is my fight against the ocean.
I never want to be salty.
My extreme flow is captured by the water of ocean.
This is a matter of disgust.
Oh God-I will not flow anymore.
I don't want to be salty.
Deep inside I am salty enough.
How come I would be more salty.
Bitter lyrics I have written many..
In my long journey.
People throw wastage..
Vehicles throw dirty polluted oil..
To corrupt me.
But my strong flow tries to neutralize them.
I want to be free from rusty cripples.
No charges I want..
No wound I want to see…I wish a happy flow.