"riverward" poems
O, Lord of the Meeting Rivers!
I am here, eastward
To the rising sun.
Presenting myself,
Bare hands and feet.
Lord, I am weak and frail.
Riverward, my reflection stirs.
A drop stirs the river.
Lord, I am weak and frail.
I have but one question.
O Lord, O.
Why.
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 8:59 AM UTC