RIVER: Swale
I am water
and I am life.
I am RIVER!
and I am going home.
Hear my voice from high up in the Pennines
running free over granite pools
that almighty Earth had formed,
leaping through the stone.
I can scent now the upland heather bloom,
snatch petals that pastel my heart,
see the purple hue that I will bedrench.
Watch me chase silver slanting salmon,
over whom my current has no dominion.
I am water
and I am life.
I am RIVER!
and I am nearly home.
Hear my voice as it trembles over pebbles
whispering with a silence like
the echoes in the weeds I move through,
sprinting for the sea.
I can taste now the seafront salty air,
catch crystals that dissolve my soul,
see the boundless blue that I will become.
Mind me catch verdant sleeping samphire,
over whom my current has all dominion.
I am water
and I am life.
I am RIVER!
and I am come home.
I love rivers. They are special places. Liminal. I wrote this on holiday a few years ago while watching a river – inspired by the flow of the water and the journey it takes. I thought it would be good to describe that journey from the river’s point of view, giving the river a ‘voice’ as it makes its way to the sea. This is the result.
PUBLISHED: Swaledale Festival – The Four Seasons Poetry Anthology May 2026
