The river sings….as always
As all rivers….
The ones who nurture it…
It remembers you
In its flowing canticles of joy
It carries the grief of all who suffer for it
You who have bathed in it
Anointed now by its one prayer for you….
It flows for the ones who have no voice….
Their silence eternal…
Healing the broken shadows of man….
For the water protectors of standing rock
25 November 16
A river has no name..the sound it knows of wind
It’s singing self..
It’s long memory
Bereft of longing..
Full of human invasion
Rests in its essential movements..
It is possible for a river
To sing inside a soul..
It is you..
For berta caceres
From the stronghold
5 March 2016
You found it in a rusted can of earth and worms
In a hollow birch tree along a foggy river…
In the wintered whisky breath of a Chippewa
Walking toward the oblivion of a white city….
In the eyes of a woman sitting in tall grass….
In the half blindness that allowed you to see further
It gave you words forged in motions not used by common man….
Made of a crows wing it gave you flight
Made of a Bears tooth it gave you a singing in an undiminished voice….
Made of rain it gave you love….
In the windy light snows ….among the rusty dawns of desert
And sorrowed plains….
For Jim Harrison
28 March 2016
carrying the last piece
toward a secret place
fish wait there
in the weeping water….
©2014 Lance Henson