What will you do
when you understand you were never taught
how to cross rivers
given suddenly to the way forward?
When you are called to defend
the way you explain hope?
When the wide sky
circles the dying fire
and says,
"I am a great thing
among only a few,"
and tells you it knows
there is no difference to be made
in crossing, or remaining.
Maybe,
you can learn to answer
with decades of productive silence
jungled on the advancing bank,
moving onward,
chasing the retreating river,
never crossing.
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