Duna, it’s called here,
after a Celtic goddess,
the water wide and graceful,
but the waves splashing up its banks
suggest a dangerous side to this river,
to this deity.
She’s agreeable,
but she will not be tamed.
Humble beginnings so far away
in the Black Forest of Germany,
having traveled through Vienna and Bratislava,
having witnessed so much,
whispering its stories to those
who are willing and able to listen.
It speaks of the ages,
the river and the goddess,
the Goddess River, really,
for we cannot see where one ends
and the other begins.
I sit.
I have patience.
I bow my head in humility and respect.
I listen.
Soon, I am rewarded.
What a story!
Such drama,
such mystery,
the highs, the lows,
the heroines, the villains,
the turbulence, the tranquility.
Oh, if only I could tell.
Sworn to secrecy of course.
That is the way of the river,
of the Celtic goddess.
One must travel,
and sit,
and be patient,
and bow one’s head
in humility and respect,
and listen.