How many rivers does it take to build a world?
One where you don’t have to drown to inhabit it
But just enough to turn her attention to the sails being furled
With little hope that they will guide her somewhere familiar
A time where she was nourished and pure
With kinder winds and a current that she claimed
“Close your eyes,” she says, for I have a cure
"that lives in riverbeds that are far from home"
My rivers flow that can’t be untanned
Speaks to me in prose, just like my grandmother who
Glistened wisdom in this world to roam
casting light over her path like still water in June
We have arrived as we looked upon to see a sliver
The towers of the great bridge wade in the river