The river is a heaven cried tear only Jesus turns to stone.
We are hatched from ice, born from glaciers.
But we are not water. This is what we must remember.
The water is other than us.
But we can stand on the bullrush banks
where rivers merge,
some salt, some fresh water,
we can be freedom's fireflies
can toe ourselves in, give ourselves
join our bodies with that of the river's.
We can flood the banks.
All the while remind ourselves.
We are not the river but its students.
Beneath our immersion, let our tears sprout wings,
fly our weeping,
listen to its lapping words that tells us how to care.
Less about some things
More about others.
We can stop making things up.
The important things are already happening.
Be a dam, be a funnel, be a moss crusted bank.
Be a pillowed shore.
be our truth.
Cry. Laugh. Remember.
Say please and thank you to good,.
To the innocent, yes.
No and stop to evil, (lips close to the mic and screaming.)
Keep swimming even in sleep.
Don’t course your way on whim except when it comes to love.
Be a sail.
Be an oar.
Be a boat.
Be a ladle.
Leave the dying to stonies.