Tomorrow

I return to muddy walls near the river Erratic November rain heals the world. Now the courtyard is wet. Night birds are carrying time’s wings Though our hearts have deep bloody wounds Though the air if full of hatred and self love Erring weaves gather mud Even then, the world is engrossed in dreams of a beautiful dawn. My girl has a river in her Her playmates are in distant lands Making friends, new playmates Life's wheel moves towards the confluence. I count rain drops. My heart is emptied to have more sadness Separations, homelessness on the banks of the river. River's heart knows tomorrows. Erring times.