The minute we dove into the murky river, we knew there was no turning back. The water was cold, but our body heat kept us warm. The current of the river was strong- urging us downstream, and at the same time trying to pull us under. We turned away from the murky water, and began to swim upstream, where the water seemed clearer. We kicked with our legs, and we paddled with our arms. Our muscles became sore, but our will remained strong. So we kept swimming upstream.
We’ll keep swimming upstream ‘til the river runs clear.
There are people who watch us from the safety of the shore- some are worried friends, others are imposters with their own intentions. They watch us swim upstream. They call out to us- to let go of the struggle and let the river take us downstream. Some tell us to get out of the water altogether. But their words fall on stubborn and independent ears. So we keep swimming upstream. They don’t understand. But we don’t care. We keep kicking our legs and moving our arms through the river’s water.
We’ll keep swimming upstream ‘til the water runs clear.
There are bridges we have found, and bridges we have built along the way- only to watch, curiously, as they burn later. But instead of spending the time to rebuild a weak bridge, we keep swimming.
We used to ask ourselves, and each other, why we keep struggling up river. But now the struggle feels natural, and the water is getting clearer. There are fewer people calling to us from the safety of the shore. The river’s current pulls harder than ever, but we are stronger. So we keep kicking our legs and moving our arms through the rapidly flowing water.
We’ll keep swimming upstream ‘til the river runs clear.
