Implicitly we tumbled as grains of sand,
slipping tirelessly through the river’s hand,
intervals of stasis to beachhead for fellow man,
hope---to reach a timeless land.
Nostalgically we departed as notes from the ship’s bell,
echoing memories on a river through Hell.
Eight for mourning, a call to Heaven for a soul or sale,
wedding day love---to be remembered as well.
To look to the future,
paint of a new hue---a face bleak,
afraid of what has been.
To look at the past,
sketch a familiar way---a face defined,
scarred from what once was.
Boundaries warped by chaos and fervor,
as the water storms branching,
creating new dimensions; creating a new river.
Strife beneath those punishing waves,
polished the same stones,
used to punish injustice;
used to build home.
To you, the profound prologue,
tell us what we once were;
tell us from where we come-
To you, the envious epilogue,
tell us where we died;
tell us when the river dries.