I Touch Beauty Daily

I Touch Beauty Daily

Friday, May 4, 2012

Chattahoochee River

Walking the trail
Rewarded by the view
Of soft gliding water
Going about its business
Into it I gazed, seeing the bottom
No longer the Chattahoochee
Flipping, it sent me
Back many years to girlhood
Straddling that river
My Nja-aba River
Coursing through proud veins
The river of my instruction
Father’s masculine voice booming
Chanting encouragement
For this girl to master that river
Float, immerse, swim, stroke
Conquer the river, father coaxed
Encouragement the elixir
Propelling me to be its mistress
Scaling tree branches
Jumping like a lioness into feet of river
Landing like a silvery fish
Into my Nigerian river, Nja-aba
Cradled gently like a babe just born
Through civil war of self-abuse
Three tribes against language and greed
Of dusk and dawn journeys
To refluent ebb and tide to bathe, fetch
To launder, fish, drink, play
To sustain a proud village
During childhood escapes of coolness
Away from the city’s clamor
I traveled beneath the Chattahoochee
Touching the other clear bottom
The pebbles, the dictator of color
Of my Nigerian river unlike this one
Brown from abuse and neglect
With trunks discouraging friendliness
Dissuading interaction
My Nigerian river, Nja-aba
One of several nourishments
Endowing proud banded people

--My dream has loved paper so much for so long because it gave influence to the parched voice of a fashionista poet. Finding this outlet, that voice is now replete with expressive sound.

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