We carry river memories and pond,
The slush of women’s feet in January
Under a sky of calm faces laughing
In water and mud, in a harvest song,
As breeze makes a dance and floods
World with love’s dust ,in plenitude.
Bodies go on to fight a flower’s dust
As they would nights when shadows
Overwhelmed a sleep, in its dreams.
We cannot fight against memories
In blood, we get from our old men.
We only push them down a spiral.