The dark river
The river falls headlong. Her raven waters burnished to a sheen, thick and glossy like wet pelt. A peat-soaked soul with amber eyes, sheathed in shrewdness and intention. In her lust for life she has swallowed thunder, which sounds now in the deep belly of her limestone gorge. She is unafraid of her own darkness. Undaunted by her own force.
As I stand on the bridge, I can see her past, present and future. Her course unbroken from source to sea. Unmoved by my gaze, she will not be diverted. Implacable. Abiding. Resolute. Her attention to the moment is absolute. There is grave beauty in her intent. Like a child at play, she’s absorbed in pursuit of pure flow.
Coursing her way forward, the river is transfigured through encounter. Tree roots, rocks and sudden drops tear through the seams of her darkness, liberating light in hurls of liquid pearls. In these moments of meeting, of impact and rupture, she is pure exaltation. A hymn to creation.
Suddenly I see.
The dark river is full of light.
Ingleton Falls, Yorkshire Dales National Park - September 2023 (photo ©SusanHolliday)
