I Am The River Poem by Mohammad Younus

I am the river—
Born from the mountains' tears and the sky's breath,
A silver thread unwinding from time's embrace.
My veins spread across the earth,
Carving ravines with patience,
Kissing stones smooth in surrender.

I flow where roots thirst and reeds bow,
Where egrets pierce my surface,
Their hunger reflected in my depths.
I carry stories: the fish's leap,
The leaf's dizzying descent, the moon's fractured shimmer.
All dissolve into my liquid song.

By day, I am the mirror of clouds; by night, I swallow the stars.
In the cracks of parched soil, I am sorrow,
In the dust-laden air, the dream of rain.
For travelers, I am a book of paths;
For the broken, a psalm.

Come, I whisper to the wounded and the unscathed alike,
Even to those whose throats are graves of longing.
My current knows no wealth or poverty—
Prince and pauper kneel at my shore the same.
I do not judge trembling hands,
Only the pride of those who stand afar.

I cannot climb mountains to reach your door,
Nor pour myself into mouths sealed shut.
But for those who stumble,
Knees bloodied, breath uneven, by my shore—
I will rise to meet their lips,
Filling their empty arms with a song that hums:
'Alive, alive, alive.'

Seasons change. I freeze, I boil, I shrink.
Yet I always return to my refrain:
'Here. Now. Drink.'
My path is strewn with the bones
Of those who caged their thirst,
Who mistook stillness for surrender.

But you—
You who dare to cup your hands,
To let my cool truth slip through your fingers—
You will open.
My ancient song will echo in your veins,
And when your voice rises,
It will rise soaked in my melody:
Welcome. Welcome. Welcome.

I am the river.
I wait without restlessness.
I give without care.
Seek me.

— MyKoul