when the water is dirty
there is dirt.
something upstream
was stirred.
a careless boot,
a passing storm,
a stone turned over.
the river does not
explain itself.
it carries
what has been loosened.
some will say
the water lies.
some will swear
nothing is there.
the current whispers,
banks remember in silence.
time lets truth flow.
silt settles softly,
layers of the past
drift away.
what was lost returns.
© 2026 Corvalya
Reflection
There are times in history when the waters grow cloudy.
Voices compete to shape the current.
Stories are told and retold until people begin to question what is real.
Some insist the water is clear.
Others claim the river itself is lying.
But rivers do not argue.
They carry what has been stirred.
Truth moves differently than noise.
It does not rush to defend itself.
It does not shout to be heard.
Given time, the silt settles.
The river clears.
And what was always there
comes back into view.
I invite you to read the poem again.