Ripples Of The Yukon Poem by Pascal Umekwe

By the waters of the Yukon
I washed my hands
Immersing a prayer down the tunnel of my index finger
Slimy with a thousand thoughts in my heart
A hundred wishes and desires
Dreams that would not wag me off their tails
Mine was a sworn chase and theirs the capricious escape
And my hand-washing gained the status of an unctuous act
More of a prayer ablution
And I thanked ‘what gods there may be'
That I had found the great artery of a spiritual land
And its blood ran over my fingers
And amidst the distant wavelets its history swam calmly
I watched my prayer slip into the ripples like an eel
Slithering away softly into the currents like a young salmon
Fresh as new-found freedom, untangled by the winding ropes of water
I had said my prayer
And I had said it by the Yukon