May 21st
I was told
it was a cycle
mountain to sea.
I didn’t need instruction,
being raised rain’s boy.
Mother’s tide rose above our heads,
washing my father away,
the river of each sister to its own,
run off.
The lessons are clear as my reflection
standing in water.
I was told
it was a cycle
mountain to sea.
I didn’t need instruction,
being raised rain’s boy.
Mother’s tide rose above our heads,
washing my father away,
the river of each sister to its own,
run off.
The lessons are clear as my reflection
standing in water.