When I hold this stream,
this stream of life waving,
I am answered by the many drowning.
Those who are cry out. Those
who are screaming. Those
who are so desolate that they allow the water to burn them out.
But also, those whose cries are answered by the caring.
In these times, we have become better in
turning the tides,
rescuing the many,
tending to our flowing wounds.
However, I see the people overburdened—
the wound's horizon, ever expansive,
unsure if we can even measure its atmosphere;
the riverbed hemming and hawinng,
unsure if we can even see its gift of life.
I see these people mangled, disfigured, and hurt.
For what anguish have we given to our gifts of water.
What toil need we endure through
to only be left hardened by water.
The life we water,
we can only bear.
This water bearing our life unwavering.
That is why I ask that riverbend,
what comes before you?
I am answered by the many drowning.