I give you to River

 

by Linda Rodriguez

(This post was published in an earlier version on my personal blog.)

 

Like my ancestors before me, I love rivers. The peace of running water always calms me, watching it ripple past slowly, hearing the murmur of the water over rocks and branches and the swish of it against the banks, spying the many lives that live along the river--fish, turtles, snakes, muskrats, beavers,   hawks, and eagles. For millennia, my people have always chosen to settle near rivers.

 

When I was growing up, I was taught to go to water when troubled or ill. Running water is strong medicine, good medicine. We pray next to it, and then use it to wash away whatever is troubling our hearts, minds, or bodies. Sometimes a creek or brook will work for me, but if I'm truly heartsick, I seek out a river.

 

This poem is an exploration of this practice of going to water when troubled. In the worst kind of pain and grief, sometimes only a river can provide any release. For a healing ceremony, one needs to build a fire, say the right prayers, make an offering, but sometimes in the worst straits, it can be simply you and the river.

 

 

I GIVE YOU TO RIVER

 

Turning to the water for release

from my troubles, from you,

I write your name in my palm with my finger,

then brush off the invisible letters

into the river currents passing at my feet.

I ask River to carry them out of my heart and mind,

carry them away from my life, remove all that darkness

that is you infesting my mind against my will,

replaying memories that were nothing

but playacting on your part,

though my heart tries to find excuses,

for all the deliberate pain.

I have to face it finally—there are none.

Hard to believe, but even harder to find

I still long for you.

This stubborn heart won’t give up.

So I barricade it, keep it safe from its stupid fidelity,

while I wait for River to carry out magic,

carry your name and games far from me,

set me free finally with the power of moving water,

my own inborn element,

which carves memories of trauma from the earth itself

and leaves wondrous scars.

 

Published in Dark Sister (Mammoth Publishing, 2018)

 

 

Linda Rodriguez has written or edited 13 books. Her novels—Every Hidden Fear, Every Broken Trust, Every Last Secret—and books of poetry—Skin Hunger, Heart's Migration, Dark Sister: Poems—have received critical recognition and awards, such as St. Martin's Press/Malice Domestic Best First Novel, International Latino Book Award, Latina Book Club Best Book of 2014, Midwest Voices & Visions, Elvira Cordero Cisneros Award, Thorpe Menn Award, and Ragdale and Macondo fellowships. She also published Plotting the Character-Driven Novel and other nonfiction books, as well as editing Unpapered: Writers Consider Native American Identity and Cultural Belonging, Woven Voices: 3 Generations of Puertorriqueña Poets Look at Their American Lives, The World Is One Place: Native American Poets Visit the Middle East, and other anthologies.

 

Rodriguez is past chair of the Indigenous Writer’s Caucus, past president of Border Crimes/Sisters in Crime, founding board member of Latino Writers Collective and The Writers Place, and belongs to International Thriller Writers, Native Writers Circle of the Americas, Wordcraft Circle of Native American Writers and Storytellers, and Kansas City Cherokee Community. Learn more about her at http://lindarodriguezwrites.blogspot.com.