My body is a river, I rush over you, soothing as a salve or balm, running over your pebbles, smoothing their jagged forms. My delicate hands dance, my currents rise and fall, to you, my body is a river, with my flow I can cure you of all. Aching, yearning, pain which must be departing, despairing, depression, lonely, to cleanse you of these is my calling. So, my liquid licks and laps against your shore, the in-between where hunger and pain are raw, unknown, a certain calling, your fingers reach for me, I flush you with calm respite, truthful news, release from your gloom. You no longer suffer, you are brave for having survived your internal ravaging, but because my body is a river, you were permitted this vital saving. © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. Photo by Jessica Furtney on Unsplash
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Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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