Consider the river wending its way
from the frozen north to where the old school
holds onto the old ways, where the rights of some
outnumbers the rights of those oppressed by race,
or poverty, or creed. The river brings to those of us
living downstream a longing for portage across
that inconsolable distance no explorer will breech,
no bridge will ever span, and yet we attempt unity
by virtue of humanity. And fail utterly.
Only the shining river spills into the bay,
spills into freedom, spills into light.
4/17/24 Write On! with Nels Christiansen
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