Dark Water Keeps Moving

The Black River winds through the Pee Dee,
dark with cypress and cedar,
holding more than it shows.
They say it remembers everything—
storms, prayers, loss.

I believe it.

I have stood beside it long enough
to see how it carries what it touches
without ever turning back.

I moved through my own wreckage—
grieving a love I gave fully,
releasing the woman I had been.
Nothing about it was clean.
Clarity did not come easy.
But I remained.

We think peace lives in knowing.
It doesn’t.
It lives in moving
through what we cannot see.

The river taught me that.

It is never the same twice,
yet it keeps going—
rising, thinning,
overflowing when it must.

Peace is not stillness.
It is not perfection.

It is the quiet decision
to let go
of what was never ours to keep.

The river remembers everything
and still
finds its way to the sea.

~~~

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