Carry On


They were river 

River was his language

All of them

They were many

Under the surface a philosophy

Mysteries he would share with me.

That place a chrysalis.


Now is desert

What is called river in desert

He would have named creek.


But desert speaks to the me without him 

Its life-preserving drops and vast openness

That seem uninhabitable.

The old shaman said 

You must put your root down deeper to live.

Here root is what is needed to carry on.

Here root is my language.


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