We are waiting,
the river and I
to get acquainted
There have been days
of temptation when I
wanted to take the
steps and go down
Walk by its side, all the
way to the prison, that
stands waiting and weary,
if I trek long enough with
if I trek long enough with
an enthusiastic friend
The intimidation is not
from the bars, not even
the cold, although one
morning, pausing on the bridge,
I prayed for the glitter of
sun on its grey stillness
But no, not for this river
the religion that makes
water pompous in
some familiar lands
It has turned into a recluse
content to wash away
this jaded baggage of turmoil.
