A journey down the river

I lay on the deck, watching the riverbank through half closed eyes as we make our way down the river- its perfect, everything's just perfect.

As each stretch of bank goes by I start to see more and more beauty-

The frayed ropes hanging from ancient eucalyptus gives me visions of a group of close friends who spent a timeless summer together, swimming, diving, drinking, loving and learning.

Makes me wonder.

Can they remember the feel of cool grass under their bare feet, the warm glow of sunburn on a cold night and the tingle stars leave on your skin?

Or have they lost those memories amidst a concrete jungle in a life too busy pay attention to those things.

Campsites along the banks have a laid back atmosphere, children play in the water, adults feeling free because there is always a friendly fellow camper keeping an eye out for trouble.

Respecting our environment as much as we can, in our invasive way.

There is a girl sitting in a tree reading a novel, she seems so peacfull.

As the time flows by with the river I start to see the scars the mighty river carries-

A tangle of fishing line drifting in the current gives me glimpses of a fight between man and fish, one fighting for survival, the other for the thrill of the game.

Fish won that battle, snapping the line and swimming away, blood pouring from the gaping hole where hook and line hung from its mouth.

Guilt washes over me

I can see where the river used to run her course, metres above where she resides now. It's been so long since she was full that there is 4 year old trees growing where she once flowed.

Farming takes its toll

There is a once proud eucalypt, it has been here longer than i've been breathing. Now laying prostrate and undignified, roots bared for all to see.

Erosion strikes again.

An old man sits on the muddy bank with his line cast into the mucky water.

If I stopped and spoke to him would he tell me about a different time? A time where the river was clear and flowed with strength and vitality, nearly bursting her banks as she took her clear cut path through the land.

He could tell me that the sluggish way she moves now is a warning to humanity.

Respect what we’ve got.

Maybe he would cry for what we’ve destroyed and lost.

I begin to cry for what I now see.

© 2009 Cognitive Facade

Author's Note

I know its not quite right in some places- i just couldnt get the wording right. I'm also pretty bad for switching from past to present tense- sorry all!! :)