Memory of the River

Me trying to capture the essence of my connection to the river as born in my childhood memories. I hope you enjoy it.

Memory of the River…

 

Barefoot children run along a path of

sun dappled earth and rocks,

flying by on the warm summer breeze…

We can smell the river getting closer, closer till-

Our excitement reaches its peak and we can keep our clothes on no more,

not wearing much to begin with.

We laugh as t-shirts, shorts and flip-flops (at most),

go flying into the bushes to hang precariously upon Birch tree snags and Poison Oak-

We discern not,

care not,

in the throes of sheer delight.

We are gypsy children-

Bred of our parent’s drunken camp nights, love children-

The best kind, always meant to be

or not to be…

but free.

That we are is all that matters to us-

We run naked into the river and don’t hesitate,

right in to the green river to scream and laugh in shock.

Everything is this extreme for us.

Our joys, our sorrows, fears and wonders,

Right now, right here.

Never a thought for tomorrow…

We swim like frogs, and those of us who don’t, learn quickly.

We teach each other,

with a patience that belongs only to those

for whom time is of no essence or consequence

At all.

Soon the tingling of limbs fades into a pleasant numbness

Which tricks us into thinking we are warm now-

and have somehow won a small victory over the river

Who would selfishly seek to keep us out and enjoy its roiling depths without us.

Lucky river, who gets to be here all the time.

Now it is the air out there that is really the villain, we must stay in all day to avoid the end of the weightless freedom…

The sanctity of the womb of the river,

that can take an hour and stretch it so far,

and yet make it seem but a moment.

Just moments ago…

 

“Let’s pretend there are sharks in the deep end,” I say,

“Don’t worry Ill rescue you, here grab this stick!”

 

“Float on your back like me!”

-Ops I went too far, I’ll have to swim all the way back now,

 

Under the water were mermaids, I see fish…

What’s that?! It looks like a snake, an eel?

We get out fast now, whew!

 

Capturing pollywogs in an empty beer can; how many can we fit in there, how many will survive?

 

Holding tree frogs, or rather, them clinging all over us;

One, two, three, four where’d that other one go?

Here it is under my arm, it tickles…

We laugh until one becomes still.

Why does one always do that?

We don’t believe in death yet,

So here, we’ll let you go…

Why won’t you hop away?

I’ll just put you here on this big warm leaf,

you’ll perk up when I'm not looking,

I know you will.

Why are you so dry and limp?

Not as slick and cool as you were when I found you?

It’s not our fault you aren’t as invincible as us,

 

Anyways we have to dress now.

We don our sun-warmed rags scented with the smell that is this place-

Is that my other sandal?

Oh, no, it’s yours-

There’s mine over there, partly hidden by that rock.

A mothers’ call-

“It’s time to eat! Dinners ready you kids!”

We’re coming!

We’re almost dressed,

my shirt is rolling up as I try to pull it down over my cold wet belly,

it’ll dry on me though, I’m in a hurry, I have to catch up!

Everyone else is dressed already and heading back to the camp.

I might miss something, what I don’t know…

But gypsy children must do everything together, everything.

“There’s still sand on your hands, go wash it off in the river!”

We all inspect our hands for the offensive presence, “Yes me too!”

Bare foot children run along a familiar path,

Dappled by deep aging sunlight and shadows,

As evening seeps in…

Let’s all go down to the river together,

Forever…

Like this.

 

 

 

Author's Note

All comments, criticisms and advice welcome. -JenniferNichole

Reviews

[Wolf_Lord]

This is beautiful and very well written. I am of Romanian Gypsy descent myself... My Grandmother on my fathers side 100%. She came to America on a shrimp boat with her parents escaping persecution of the local constabulary. Of the 50 people in the hold only about 1 in 3 survived the journey. Her story was incredible, and maybe one day I will write it. You have really captured the spirit of 'the people.' Thank you for this piece. Anthony Wolf_Lord but my frns call me Wolf ,'', ^@@^ ,'', and I hope you will be one.

[@JenniferNicholeAuthor]

The term gypsy in my poem is more metaphorical in the sense of the word. Albeit I am a descendant of Irish Gypsies. Or so I'm told... I am always fascinated with the gypsy life and I use it often enough in my writing. I would be interested in your tale if you write it. Let me know.

[dead letter office]

Well written full of personal experience.

[keith]

so powerful with words screaming imagery
imagery of untainted innocence and inquisitive nature of the youthful
so unafraid yet fragile to the ways of the world finding momentary escape at the river

beautiful message done so well with words that speak so easy
thank you

[@JenniferNicholeAuthor]

Thank You ;), I believe the most moving pieces are the ones that moved me to write, as this one did.

[Lorry]

Beautifully captured, I think all of us can see a little of our former selves in this piece, with the freedom and innocence of youth played out like it happened just yesterday. Ahh, so many long ago yesterdays....
I especially like the gypsy children comment, it is so fitting and a wonderful way to describe who we once were/are. Thank you so much for sharing this lovely piece, I really enjoyed it.

[@JenniferNicholeAuthor]

I'm glad you caught the gypsy reference as an allegory for the bohemian nature of childhood. Gypsy children, wild and carefree and taking in all the small pleasures around us, esp in nature.
Thank you for commenting. ;)

[Lorry]

I did, and I wonder when it all gets lost in the muddle of growing up and how we miss those carefree days.
you're welcome :)

[Susheel Sharma]

Life at its simplest; fun and frolic; learning by doing; life is a school for some.

[@JenniferNicholeAuthor]

Yes, simple joys. Well said Susheel. Thank you for sharing

[Candace Cloud]

Ah, to be young and carefree again

[@JenniferNicholeAuthor]

Yes, writing helps us to be there right?

[Candace Cloud]

Exactly!! Thanks for taking me on your adventure.

[Myblindeye]

I like it. It says there are no rules. Lets be free and push our boundaries cause life is short and we must embrace our independence.

[@JenniferNicholeAuthor]

Thanks My, I like your interpretation ;) that's an original look on it for sure.

[Jesus & Gypsy Soul]

My god- I haven't read anything that has deduced me to tears in years.... Your poem caught in my throat. This is truly truly stunning. It is simple, it is beautiful. I love the varying stanzas. Your verses skip here and there. Jennifer, this is beautiful.

[@JenniferNicholeAuthor]

Thank you, that's exactly what anyone wants to hear. I always hope to make a connection with someone and make them feel what I am when I'm writing. That's the best thing I could hear. ;) You made my night

[Jesus & Gypsy Soul]

I'm so glad!:)

[The Twin Arenas]

Nicely done. It's a piece you can spend time with, for sure, both as a writer and reader. Is this all done, or do you still polish it up from time to time?

[@JenniferNicholeAuthor]

Sorry for the delayed reply Waconda, I have been working hard on some novels I'm in the middle of. More Desert Tango as well... I have polished it as much as I'm going to. ;) I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thank you!

[Koushik Sen]

This is so, so beautiful. Made my day. I use the word beautiful sparingly, and this one is special. Its like reading someone's personal diary...

[@JenniferNicholeAuthor]

Wow, that is a great compliment. Thank you Koushik, and it is sort of just that I suppose. It's a memoir. It is one of the best compliments to make another's day.