Meditation at the Waterfall of the Gods
by
G.G. Silverman
We wondered
how it would change us,
the roar of an ancient river
as it hurtled from a cliff’s edge
and raged into the mist.
We stood there for mere
moments, snapped a
photo we’ll forget later,
because eternity
cannot be captured.
as it hurtled from a cliff’s edge
and raged into the mist.
We stood there for mere
moments, snapped a
photo we’ll forget later,
because eternity
cannot be captured.
We cannot fathom
how this precipice was
graven by aeons, how
this river’s cold bed
cradled its
graven by aeons, how
this river’s cold bed
cradled its
child for
seven
thousand years,
what motes we
are under the sky.
what motes we
are under the sky.
Gods were once brought here
to drown, and so we
brought our sorrows,
made paper boats
of grocery lists and death
notices and overdue
bills, then
set them free on the river.
The waters hummed
the secret
to everything,
surrender,
surrender,
surrender.
the secret
to everything,
surrender,
surrender,
surrender.
G.G. Silverman
practices walking meditation in wild or natural settings as frequently as she
can. Her favorite place to experience nature’s raw power is the Pacific
Northwest coast. G.G.'s writing was most recently nominated for the Best Small
Fictions anthology, among other honors, and has appeared in Corvid
Queen, So to Speak feminism + language + art, The Journal of Compressed
Creative Arts, The Iron Horse Literary Review, The Seventh Wave, Iconoclast,
Ellipsis Literature & Art, and more. She is currently at work on a
short story collection as well as her third novel. She is also a visual artist
and practices improvisational theater, which she believes is another form of
connecting more deeply to one’s inner truth. To learn more, please go to www.ggsilverman.com.
