When the River says "No"

An exclusive event, unreservedly out of the ordinary and riddled with bursts of laughter jumping across the effervescent corners of the venue. The choice is always the river, where burdens are laid down. Sandy ground, feet clawing in, with backs leaning into the calm, simply serve to plunder the weariness of the day into oblivion. This is the face of peace, and he smiles "hello". The comfort of familiar faces and the sound of repeated banter that never tire the ears consumes the environment and echos give resounding "amens". Only one thing though, they never asked the river for permission. How scandalous!........the audacity to even fathom they could just come.

And as if some wicked deal had been concocted between the clouds, thunder, and lightning, on a round table meeting of scorn, they all convene. The clouds are the first to protest. They swoop in unannounced and knock rudely. Their darkness bring sullen faces and worrying beads of sweat. As daringly as the clouds make coverage, a reverberating sound is heard protesting, "how dare they trespass?" The thunder's bellows bring gasps of revelation and now all senses are alert. To comfort the thunder and encourage his rampage, the rain cries vicious, howling tears, causing heavy drops to pound. The river relishes: she is happy to exact her revenge.

She waits when their backs are turned, she does not care to warn. This is the opportune time to pay them for their disrespect. She unleashes with a smirk; her waters madly reform their colours and the sounds of her resonance are similar to the coming of Christ as described by the word. "For we do not know the hour," is the proclamation with which she makes her dramatic entry. Now and only now, do they feel the need to pray. Utterly pathetic! Too late!  A swollen belly full of rage, bitter towards the audacity of the crowd who came to play. "No!" she bursts out, "no, not today!". No one is prepared and suddenly they are all trapped. The other side of the riverbank peers over with mocking green grass and beckons them with its promises of safety. Taunted by the other side, the side of the river they have never been so eager to reach its borders, the daring, trespassing crowd feels hopeless. They look on with despair and they observe the treacherous river. Today, they revere it! 

"How can we make it across?" some worryingly asked. The fun subsided instantaneously and now the mission was to get the river to forgive. This time they must beg, but she is relentless. Gushing and screaming in anguish, the river shows no intent of stopping or slowing. She marks her territory with gurgling bulges in her middle and she haphazardly throws stones all over underneath. Armed with rope and a few brave souls, they attempt to cross over. What a humorous sight, and exactly the kind of jestering they deserved. Some hang tight, others topple over, some stop dead in the river's tracks, others are unwavering, some are frightened but mask it well, others do not even dare to contend against the mighty river. It was undoubtedly no easy feat. 

Almost severed palms, red from the tension of the ropes serve as a reminder that the river is not a force to counter. She owes no one an explanation and she comes and goes as she pleases. A powerful reminder is bestowed upon the crowd, a reminder that audacity comes at a price when it is at an all time high. We do not dare make plans with nature, for she runs her own course. Many a time, she has complied but today a lesson must be learned. She must be worshipped, absolutely revered.  As the pitter patter of the rain followed their sunken hearts on the long road home, you could hear the weary little whispers, see the drooping shoulders and you almost hear "this could never be me again".

The river concurs and forcefully declares, "no!"