The water cleaves the heart of the forest

opening the wound. Forcing its way to freedom

it pours the mud of civilization into her gaping chest

 beating a rhythm  faster than nature

We have forgotten how to move

with her river. How to beat the heart in time

with the flow and not race

speed. We, hasty creatures of greed defined as progress

lament the loss of the free soul. It cries through the open wound

A torrent of tears falling on deafened ears.  Angry men,

too white to remember the goddess inside

stand at the point of the sun and shout anger. Feeble

hands grasping power that was never theirs to hold

while she waits in the shadows, her breast

splaying wide their wound, dripping pain

The drain of life force unstopped

becomes the torrent of fear

and we, its helpless child

grasping to hold

love

For Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt, #torrent