Meander, if you must, whispers the lake
To its new-born river. But flow down all
The way to the sea. When drought comes to stake
Its claim, when plateau, plain and desert stretch
Their thirsting, sun-cracked feelers out to take
Your soul, do not die gasping in the sand
Or compound with other rivers to make
Alliances that will consume and erase
Your name.
Leave a Reply