poem written for online poetry class based upon above image
The River Speaks by Millie Gosch, Framed Impressionist Landscape Oil Painting
poem submitted to "1453 Poetry Contest," Brian Strand, sponsor
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I was born of trembling stone, cold and sharp, unnamed, alone~ then the rains came, soft and slow, whispering, You must flow. I carved my path with silver teeth, gnawed the earth beneath my feet, sang the songs the rocks had taught me, wore the valleys down to naught. Men arrived with nets and prayers, called me holy, called me theirs, built their temples near my back~ I drowned them when I chose to crack. Now I am old, but not yet tired, my body wide, my voice entire. I swallow sunsets, spit out stars, while the moon strokes my scars.
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