Drifting — On Learning to Let the Current Carry You

by Al Konda

There are moments in life when we stop fighting the current — not because we’ve given up, but because we’ve learned to trust the flow.

Drifting was born from that quiet surrender, from the hush that comes when we finally stop asking “why” and begin whispering “yes.”

It’s not a poem of despair, nor one of triumph. It’s a meditation — a small voyage into the mystery of being carried.

I wrote it one evening as I watched the light fold itself into the river, realizing that the world never truly stops moving, even when we do.

There’s something holy in that motion — in the way water remembers where it has been, yet never looks back.

That’s what I wanted the poem to hold: the peace that comes not from control, but from release.

“The water teaches me to trust /

The path that opens as I glide…”

We speak often of strength as resistance, but there’s another kind of strength — the kind that yields with grace, that bends but doesn’t break.

When you stop struggling against the flow, you begin to hear life itself humming underneath the noise — the ancient rhythm that keeps the world alive.

Every poem, to me, is a kind of drifting. We set out with direction, yes — but language, like water, always takes us where we’re meant to go.

✨ Read the full poem and literary analysis now tomorrow 10.11. on AlKonda.com