The Water Talks
By Rob Waters
Published 10 August 2026
Let me start by saying that I do not claim to be an academic.
But I know what it’s like to sit by a river.
What it feels like to watch water pass by, maybe never to be seen again.
Water lost around the bend
and then
down somewhere, somewhen, unseen.
Forgotten
Even tidal streams don’t bring back the same water twice. But the
River stays the same…
Yes, they change.
They grow larger, smaller. The slight rearrange.
But the river remains.
How could they not?
A living entity?
These anthropocentric misunderstandings, The Forgettingness…
Trees to be cut down, mangroves cleared, animals and peoples hunted into fear of oblivion.
Transported stories and Transported people these “Tamers of Nature”.
As if you yourself were never part of nature in the first place.
Rivers now used as commodifiable resources instead of family members to be taken
care of. Kin and country?
No …
Kin IS COUNTRY!!
You see, I know what happened. I’ll tell you a secret.
“You forgot your story” – That Earth Law that they talk about.
Our old ones taught me of such a lore.
One of reciprocity.
Both taking and giving
And giving and taking
And taking and giving.
Those living, tidal waters.
Taught us.
That same LORE too.
Leave it up to us to think that we can change the way that water knows
us. Are we not made up of her?
The rivers will dry,
The rivers will punish,
And again, we will centre ourselves.
So that we can claim that “we” were the reason that it all happened.
Yet when all is said and done, there will be less done than said.
And the rivers will decide to give their water back to the tides.
All of this, because they have been dispossessed of their relations, not just the other way round.
The rivers know. They have always known.
They will retake their true image.
You may not believe me, but they are already their true image.
And if we do not act now.
If we do not sit by their side,
if we do not listen as the Water Talks.
It will not be the water, but we who will be lost around the bend
and then
down somewhere somewhen unseen.
Forgotten
Write a love letter to an inanimate object i.e. a lukewarm cup of coffee that you just remembered you forgot to drink in the morning before the work emails started.
Rob Waters
#30in30 #PoetryMonth
Somebody asked me, what does poetry mean to me? I replied, have you ever tried to catch lightning in a bottle? It's dangerous. It's scary. But it's worth it. I'm not saying run out into a thunderstorm and try to catch lightning in a bottle, I'm just saying that when you write the poem that you want to write and it means something to you and it means something to somebody else and you can find those points of connection, that's what it feels like. It feels like you've been able to catch a piece of lightning in a bottle and you've been able to hold it and pass it on to somebody and take them on a journey to where you want to go and where you've come from. I think it's an amazing opportunity to be able to sit with somebody and either read your words or they read you words, and you see the moment when it clicks, when they get it, when they get what you meant. That's the moment I live for, especially when I'm up on stage or when I'm reading. If I had any opportunity to tell you to do anything it's to maybe try to catch lightning in a bottle. Not in a thunderstorm, but maybe with a piece of paper and a pen.
