The River Lives On

Peaceful Waves, Sudden Gulps, Respects offered, Sights Drawn.
Here, Is the River of Life taking in those without lives, taking in their souls, their memories, their everything.
Maybe that’s why a river comes back to life each year, from living as a trickle to creating floods.
Maybe It lives because it has so many lives within it; Lives, Memories, Everything.

 

  • This is a short poem that I wrote on the banks of the Cauvery river about the rituals of pouring the ashes of the departed ones in the rivers of India.
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