Omnidirectional River
by Sauryam Shrestha
Almost as if the river
never had to flow
on its own
freedom of direction
pressed against the stone
without worry.
Spill onto another
without ever wanting
to readjust pause or hurry.
Flow down meander
in search of another country
through trees that trace back
to when you were free
less than thirty
responsibilities.
Folk songs are humming
down the stream
so as the deers
and wolves alike sip
they hear songs
about guitar strings
that echo infinitely of us.
Memories will recall
as you breathe in the
aquamarine scent
of lactating seaweed
under the dry sun
above the worries left aside
the family we find in this life
of wild huckleberries.
The teeth we unshackle
to let us crash into laughter
reminds me to swim faster
into the world.
I don’t flip calendars anymore.
I only smell the direction
of this stream since
you’ve been a stone
under the river I flow
even if that means
to weather
away.