Community Voices for Health

A river’s arms.

Where art thou gone?

Why gurgle they no more

The merry little feet

Dance around no more

Or so it seems…

That no rains in heavens

Can quench a withered land

That has not a drop more to give

A heartland emptied entirely –

Here grows no more blossoms

Nor the lush sways.

Here no bees hum

To the eternal melody of the bloom.

Here no rivers tend

To the scathed, scarred dead.

Here no dew drops form

To soothe the lone weed..

Or so it seems…

But dainty patches up above

I see are gathering.

Perhaps a mind’s play

Come they from whither

Over a parched clay?

Which wind from yonder blew them across?

Which rivers vapourised to form this fluff?

That which was never meant to be

Now playing out before astonished eyes.

Or so it seems…

And so i put pen to paper

As the clouds gather and roar

And i learn my lesson

As i feel the music soar,

Streams you do not need

nor flowing rivers galore.

To let that first bud bloom

all you need is Faith m’boy.

And the winds shall sail

And the clouds shall be hailed!

And lo and behold!

Where there was a desert of thought.