Expectation’s Dam

Why, I wonder,

do we build these dams

upon love’s flowing river —

walls that clutch and bind,

shaping streams into trickles,

folding open arms into chains?

A dam across the flowing love.

We craft these barriers in silence,

brick by brick of unmet hopes,

and watch the water shrink—

the riverbanks retreat,

the lush floodplain of connection

withers beneath a scorching sun.

Between the banks and the dam,

we stand apart—

dry soil cracked beneath our feet,

unable to drink the waters

we once let run free.

A dam across the flowing love.

But then comes the flood,

the unbidden torrent of grief,

memories like swollen rains

bursting walls that held tight,

carrying away fractured dreams,

shattered bridges between souls,

and the heaps of our expectations.

All that remains:

muddy debris of regret,

the bitter ash of guilt—

we burn within its glow,

singed by what we never dared to say.

A dam across the flowing love.

Yet beyond the ruin,

in the quiet aftermath,

the river murmurs still—

whispers beneath fallen stones,

calling for new paths to be carved,

for cracks through which light might seep,

for hearts that dare to soften their hold.

Will we let the river heal?

Will we rebuild bridges,

woven not of walls but of hands?

Or leave these banks barren,

haunted by shadows

where water once danced?

A dam across the flowing love.

So here I stand—

between the stillness and the storm,

yearning for the river’s song to rise again,

for love to flow freely once more,

unbound, unbroken, and whole.