Crossing the Tamor
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The wind sings of life's intentions
lores from days forgone
of noble conclusions.
But it is known that the stationary rocks
harbor gradations of illusory depth.
Cross the Tamor with this bamboo pole in hand, my brother!
Gauze its traversability.
Death by drowning never makes news
as death by claustrophobia
dwarfs the shortening pole, now at its last green inch,
upon the flooded waters.
We will still join your family
after you die crossing the Tamor.
Jump...Jump from rocks to rocks
slippery in their deceit,
subtle in their ignominy.
Shout out SOS
in the language of the shepherds
who sing their cattle
to guide them safely
back home.
mG.
***
guide