The River Story
Deep in the jungle,
Dark from above,
Beneath branches, beneath leaves,
Beneath low hanging mangrove trees.
Two children adrift,
On a river that twist;
Banking left, banking right,
Banking near, far, out of sight.
Over tumultuous swells,
Full of piranha,
Stuck in this sweltering,
Natural sauna.
Escaping a humid world of insects,
Becomes the pair’s only interest.
Fluttering in the air,
Getting caught in their hair,
Exotic looking bugs,
Brightly jeweled, buzzing,
Landing for hugs.
This maze of lagoons,
Hiding enormous baboons,
Behind plants stretching to the sky;
Humid, wet, and no place dry.
Rustling behind the undergrowth quiet,
Suddenly erupts, into an excited riot:
Of chanting and screaming,
Of horns and drums,
Of savage creatures,
Hungry for fun.
Arrows are sent flying,
Spears sent soaring,
Children duck for cover,
But now, fear something other.
In the commotion the pair catch a glimpse,
Of something not quite so innocent.
Menacing fins piercing their wake,
Forcing feelings they couldn’t shake:
Of lying in wait,
Of being the bait,
For something they did not wish:
A Leviathan fish.
Only an outline can be seen,
Of this beast in the stream;
If not for its tail,
Making a SWISH,
Revealing this,
Leviathan fish.
Rushing water torrents ahead,
Echoing a looming dread:
A massive waterfall,
Ten stories tall,
Swallows the kids, the raft, the fish,
Swallows them all.
At the bottom of the falls,
Among the many rocks,
They disappear in the waves;
Perhaps their watery graves.
Splintered and battered,
Broken and shattered,
The boat,
A thousand pieces in this sea,
With two little kids,
Clinging to debris.
Big sister, little brother,
Drifting with the wreckage,
Their small bodies,
Tossed, broken,
Floating like the wreckage.
So small and frail they are,
The monster fish cannot see,
For from below the pieces of wood,
Float as still as the children could.
So the enormous mouth swam by,
Beneath the child’s thigh;
For now the two are safe,
Lying on pieces of their seat,
From that boat,
They perchance did greet.
Crumpled, hurt, alone,
Drifting far from home,
The siblings recall their affair,
Of simply falling through thin air.
What first appeared as a fern,
Exotic and stern,
Gave way to this jungle,
Which the two fell into, with a tumble.
Rolling down a steep
hill,
To a beach lined with trees;
The opening to this world,
Hides among the leaves.
As the sun sets,
And everything glows orange,
There flies by something,
Something absurd:
A rainbow colored bird.
Perhaps it is good luck,
To see this painted duck,
For it did give them something pretty,
To ease their minds from this gritty,
Damp and miserable,
Night in the water.
All night there are howls,
From animals in the dark,
Cries to the moon:
Monkeys, leopards, wild buffoons.
Waking in the surf,
The two kids washed to land,
Dazed and confused,
With their hands full of sand.
But, all they could do is wish,
As there began a hiss,
For the safety of their boat;
So they could simply be afloat.
Instead they run for their lives,
As snakes and alligators,
Snap at their behinds.
Their shrieks cause a ruckus.
Figures begin to emerge,
Shaggy hunters running,
Sprinting, in a wild raging surge.
From the tree-line they appear,
Brandishing their spears,
And sprinting toward the children,
Now stricken with fear.
The two scramble for cover,
Bounding over a log,
Running quickly,
Toward the dense jungle fog.
Savages upon them,
Close enough to smell:
Body odor and sweat,
Musty with neglect.
A terrible growl comes from the thicket,
Just as the children make it past,
The spotted fur stops the wild-men,
Nearly dead in their tracks.
The pair wouldn’t dare,
To think of anything that could scare,
More than a leopard on their tracks;
Perhaps, leopards in packs?
Then they saw plants,
Larger than them,
With huge sharp teeth,
Sprouting everywhere but the stem.
The two are afraid,
Of this hungry wild,
Trying to take a bite,
And make a meal of a lost child.
While they scramble up the hill,
Running past a troop of ants,
The kids hear something familiar,
A sound that couldn’t be by chance:
Some faint barking on the trail,
Something little with a wagging tale.
Bounding towards them,
Fast as light,
Their dog Jojo,
Jumps, jumps with all her might.
Hugs and kisses don’t last long,
The hungry wild coming along:
Leopards, wild-men, and a giant fish,
Tearing through the jungle,
Looking for their dinner dish.
The little dog leads the way:
Off the beaten path,
Deeper, deeper into disarray.
They could feel them getting closer,
The large hunting party on their tail:
Hooting and hollering,
Growling and tracking:
Their empty stomachs’ casting spell.
Even the enormous fish,
Flails through the trees,
Whipping his mighty tale,
With a loud cracking SWISH.
The frightened pair runs with their dog;
Climbing hills,
In this dense jungle bog.
With excited barks they know they are near,
To that place which their dog,
Leaped in to find them here.
The funny bush looks like a fern,
The same that they fell through,
The two indeed would soon learn.
As Jojo jumps between the leaves,
And the two are left behind,
They quickly scramble through,
Right in the nick of time.
Out they pop,
To the other side,
Sitting with their dog,
On a normal curbside.
The two did agree,
That they would never tell,
Of that jungle sea,
Into which they fell.
But along came mom,
And the two sang their song.
Anthony Farentino
Tonyfsketches©
