I kneel down to the river
And say my prayers
As I hear the water
flowing and rolling
I think about how freedom has overgrown
The magnificent mud of the Mississippi
I hear birds skim the treetops
And remember how, when I was a little girl,
My mom walked me there, and
I saw the brown water
I feel memories drift on the surface and
See my shadow through the deep.
Metairie, LA
