Forest dew and lavender
The scent that I remember
Along with the gushing of streams of water
By the banks of the river.
Oh, to the River, where I always go
Covered in filth and shame, and so
I am just determined to tread the path
Leading to the place whilst bearing all the wrath
"When will it ever stop? Will it ever go away?"
I'd contemplate as I walk unsteadily along the muddy surface...
Yes, I'd trip and stumble, but I must get up and keep going
I must get to that sacred place for I had a lot to confess.
But even with great difficulty that I carry my bucket
Full of soiled clothing, dirty linens and undergarments,
My eyes are still fixed on to my destination
Totally resolved to disregard my own disbelief and derision.
So, every day, I go to this River where boulders are perfectly disposed
As if they were laid down there for a specific purpose,
For it is where I'd sit on and commence the cleansing rite
And see the grime being washed away by the flowing water...
And I say, "What a beautiful sight!"
What a beautiful freewrite... At a point, I started thinking of how things were in my village in the early 2000.
We often had to go to the stream to fetch water. Heheh. It's a long walk and it's never easy to carry the bucket watere, but it was also FUN.
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