The Disappearing River,
Where is the door
that opens to song,
the hidden source
that holds its notes alive,
the long tune that floats clear
through chill-&-thirst-struck stone?
I choke on its sudden burst, its rock-
jump, swelling spill-over.
Silence is the hole that waits, a falling
closed of mouth & heart, the ghost
trace of water’s slow-fast-slow
ongoing passage onwards past.
When the song’s flow is gone,
memory’s wet touch leaps on.
S. A. Leavesley
Note: This was initially inspired by the River Alyn, a tributary of the River Dee. As a small river running through a limestone gorge, large volumes of water are lost down sinkholes in the summer.