Father Water by Cynthia Le Monds

For so long I have dearly mourned

that which I never knew I lost.

Things I merely loved but had not known:

honeysuckle, dirt & dawn

& the River too, how it stank

& mud lived between my toes,

squishing—stinking—

delicate & clingy,

the air above muggy in summertime,

a thousand starlings floating across my eyes

filled with blue, white clouds swimming in them,

in me & in the eyes of the River,

this river I forgot,

this water that saved me. This river I have found again.

Across this river, I was born,

squishing—stinking—

delicate & clingy.

Across this river, I will die.