by Goirick. B
1. A river in E major
A white river runs
down these steep hills like a song –
ripples many moons,
notes, cold stones; drones memories
of forgotten sounds,
only fireflies and grasshoppers
can bring, goose-fleshing
a dark percussive breeze that
engulfs a dead, white
valley where people must have
forgotten their speech.
And silence
echoes itself loud
through the notes
it waves inside dreams
we carry
for white rivers to
roll down these steep hills slowly
before the song ends.
2. A river in F# minor
notes, like a river
count death in white syllables,
bring mist, memories
to the silk valley
from a silent, yellow hill
(we call Jatinga[1])
on strange cold nights when
everyone plans to dream in
liquid quarter notes
for the monsoon is
strong and the birds are free to
fall in the river.
[1] Jatinga, a village on a ridge, is located in Dima Hasao district, Assam- once famous for birds’ suicide mystery, attracted attention from naturalists around the world. It was found out later that the birds do not commit suicide but are actually killed by the local inhabitants.
