Broken Woman

Rivers flow for miles down the road,

Looking to nourish,

Intending to cleanse the land.

Giving birth to much life,

Just as long as their path isn't impeded.

But where is your spring, my love?

High up on your mountain chair,

You bark orders to nature.

You demand the trees part from the forest

So that your nosey banks can gossip their tales.

You order the land to split,

So your loud waterfall can be heard over all other voices.

You flood the villages so we pay attention to only you.

You become a stream when you don't get your way,

Causing our lips to dry and our souls to hunger.

You'd ruin us all if God didn't hold you in place.


All of your good works are marred with death.

If one drinks from you, they grow morbidly sick.

If one bathes in you, they are riddled with diseases.

We cannot seek life from you, for the fish are poisoned.

We cannot place gardens near you, for the flowers whither.

What was the richness of a village

Is now the plague of a nation.

Though others wish to seek other rivers for water,

I am obsessed with you.


You are the body of water God led me to.

It took years for me to trust Him and drink.

I will not give in to fear.

I have walked your banks.

I have swam in your waters.

Memories of being soaked by you come to mind.

I played in your waters so often.

You are my river.

I have known you for years.

I will not give up on you...


Instead, I will walk to where you came from,

Enter the mountain you sit upon,

And remove the dead things.

Every single lifeless thing in you, I will remove.

Whether it be a branch or a boar.

Whether snake or sludge.


Imagine my surprise to see dead men,

Drowned by the overrun of your tantrums.

They tried to test you and you were relentless.

But they stay afloat, trapped in branches.

It's like the life in you is drawn to death,

Trying to keep it alive like Sarabi and the pride.

Searching for a king,

Only to find yourself left with scars.


Closer to the source are schools of serpents,

Slithering between the waves,

Dragging their prey into the water,

Injecting living things with venom,

Shedding skin and creating nests.

They are much harder to remove,

As they are living things creating death.

Still, I refuse to be hindered.


Miles away and feet far above the surface,

I find your source.

A spring full of life and yet full of mud.

Your high chair collapsed into you.

What was a lesson in humility is now humiliation.

You rebuke the chastising hands of God

That have knocked the mountain into you

As the Lord put you back in your place.

You sat in that broken chair

Like a spoiled little girl who wants her way

And won't stop pouting until she gets it.


You fool no one. I see your tears

Trickling through the dirt.

It's okay. I will dig you out of this grave.

Like Jesus at the grave of Lazarus,

I will rob this grave of an imprisoned soul,

Tell you to rise, and make you whole.

Just so others know you are blessed because I am for you.

After all, I am your king.

And a king will not sit back as his queen suffers.

Cry no more. I am here to cleanse.

I am the mineral far beneath the surface,

Buried in the catacombs of your hopes and dreams.

Hope again.

There's a man at your door.

Let your king in.

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