A poem by Hal Recinos from his forthcoming ninth collection of poetry, Cornered by Darkness; expected publication in late 2020.
we know the way to the
river that takes us down the
lanes with names nailed to
trees, past the children
born without faces who die
young and the baskets filled
with unblessed ashes left to
watery eyes. we know the
way to the river beneath the
fixed northern star, long ago
crossed in the company of
priests, where relatives often
disappear, mothers cross to
be detained and infants taken
cry their last breath. we know
the way to the river, the many
faces it kindly bathes, English-
speaking neighbors who do not
wish a fence, and the rooster’s
early morning crowing on old
unamerican earth. we know
the way to the river with the
slippery banks, the places that
beg us to wade across and take
an afterlife chance. we know the
way to the river that smiles at the
sound of our saintly names and
we come to her one part ill to
heal.
h.j. Recinos