The River Poem by Carolyn Brunelle
The River
Life once innocent
grown wizened by its years,
wearies of its wordly gods
chokes back bitter tears.
Pain and loss the mold
has carved a deep despair;
we are all blinded travelers
lost and going nowhere.
Yet suffering cuts the path
carving deepest into pride;
'til a dying thirst is quenched
from the river found inside.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
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5/3/2024 4:03:27 AM # 1.0.0.1119
