The Narrow River
The river was slender, like mysteries ineffable,
Ineffable the lane where guilt takes hold,
Hold of his heart becoming as heavy as stone.
Stone was her past, engraved abysmal in skin,
Skin bore the veracity, though concealed within,
Within his pledges, sadness did mature.
Mature like a shadow, stretched in the darkness,
Darkness was a reflection rejecting the nimble,
Nimble of her purity, gone like the torrent.
Torrent had banks too adjacent
Adjacent for a body to slide easily
Easily to stretch for fear of hurt.
Poem by N. Mugisho
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