River Remembers
This river remembers what I do not.
It remembers running clear,
abundant with fish.
I see only the tossed garbage,
a sheen of oil, no fish
swimming in the current.
This river remembers times of peace,
truth in the world. I hear only gunfire,
lies spoken by those who pretend
to lead.
This river remembers running though
pine forests and glens. I see it running past
condos and concrete playgrounds.
This river remembers your friendship;
I do not.
Green Silk Journal
Spring 2026
