ManicWorld Magazine

I used to feel caught in the undertow of swift waters.
The river moves fast when it floods. It crests
And the calm surface belies the ruthless current.
I struggled to keep my lungs from filling
With sand and mud and fragments of memories.
When too much rain fills the banks, the water
Searches for places to go. It overwhelms,
It swallows. Tributaries cut and meander
Through dark soil, desperately.
High water marks and unearthed caskets
Littering floodplains. Both memory of the fear and
Memory of the memory. The river remembers
What it is and what it was before the dams.
My arms are covered in scars like oxbows
And I also remember. I too was born to be
Both restoration and destruction.
Too much spring rain, too much to carry
In the river’s heart and suddenly everything was
Underwater. I am also too much.
I was born of the flood, the unapologetic water
Ever-rising is my mother, and I am my mother’s daughter.
I used to fear my own power, afraid
Of the rising floodwaters swirling at the
Banks of my mind. But buttonbush and cottonwood
Thrive where the water ebbs. I am no longer
Apologizing for rising out of my banks.
The dams were built by men with hubris who thought
They could bend the river to their will, and yet
Every year, the waters rise again.