Diantha of the River

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She steps from the dark tree line
Into the twilight
Dark glossy hair flows down her back
Curling at her elbows and hips

Her skin is milk white
Her body is long and lithe
Eyes that are a piercing stormy blue
Set her apart from her people

Tears stream from those violent eyes
And fall to mingle with her blood on the frozen ground
She ignores the blood as it pours down her back and thighs
Slowly, she glides toward the river
in a trance of her own creation

Her breath is a fog
As a lilting song floats from her blue lips
A song to call to her lover lost
A hopeless song,
She knows he will never hear

At the edge of the swollen, rushing river
She raises her arms and her face to the sky
All the animals of the forest remain silent and watching
They bear sole witness

Her song swells to an impossible sound
Even the beasts in a nearby pasture
Bow their heads in homage
To the end of a love
That would only perplex common hearts

But it is a beginning as well
She wades into the water
The sharp rocks slicing her feet
Her blood is a cloud of red
Around her as she sinks

The water takes her
Into a cold embrace
Caressing her like a lover
Its icy fingers
A fire on her skin

Ecstasy,
As she and the water become one
It flows through her mouth and nose
Spreading within her body and into her veins
Consuming her

Soon the townsfolk begin to notice a change in the river
The water is grayish blue like a violent storm
And never is it still, always rushing
Toward some unknown destination

A new plant grows at the bottom of the river
Long and glossy like the blackest hair
And a mist lingers above the water
Pale and seductive like the curve of a white hip

All the stones in and around the river
Are pure white and smooth
Like bones that have been polished
By brutal waves and grinding rocks

And if you stand by the water and listen to its roar
You may begin to hear a call
To twist and turn in the current
To become one with the river

A haunting song
Of love, loss, and pain
An entrancing song
That bids you to join it

The townsfolk have a warning for those who are new
Don’t stand by that river too long
Or listen to the song it sings
You’ll be lost to her forever,
Churning in her current’s caress,
A toy in her icy fingers
Never relinquished to rest.

-LMJ
-painting by http://minzile.deviantart.com/art/Little-Celtic-Artist-s-Muse-291501033

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