When do we stop listening to the river?

The river flows over each rock, covering it completely or having some part. 

Each roaring wave is a message from ancestors before us

Birds chirp 

Sweat pours down my face 

I run my fingers through peaceful bliss 

Soon explosion falls and the souls of this land are misplaced 

Each storm was stronger than our worst childhood nightmares 

Morning came and the stillness was somber 

My body shakes at the thought of another wave

I barely survived the last one, I don’t know if I can survive another one too

The river is one part healing and other destruction. 

I still don’t know where I lie 

Does the river flow to you? 

Does this silence disrupt your peace as well?