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*On the Banks of Vyeth*
#Kilams Corner
*On the Banks of Vyeth*
I sat by the banks of Vyeth,
lost in the silence of the soul,
busy listening to the whispers within,
while the river carried away
the noise of the world.
I never knew
that a home could become a question,
that faith could become a fault,
that staying true to who I was
would one day cost me my own door.
I was driven from the house
where my ancestors once prayed,
not for what I had done,
but simply because
I would not become someone else.
And the irony still haunts me—
those who asked me to leave
had themselves forgotten
the names of the ancestors
from whom they came.
The river remembers
what people choose to forget.
Vyeth still flows past the old stones,
carrying stories older than hatred,
older than names,
older than every change of faith.
I left my home,
but I did not leave my roots.
I carried them quietly within me—
like a prayer,
like an ember,
like the river carrying
the memory of its source.
And perhaps one day,
when the noise has faded,
they will look into the river
and recognize, beneath their reflection,
the faces of those
they once called their own.
Rahul Kilam
