River does not discriminate;
i fetch the breath of ẹlẹ́yẹlé
into my palms, offer it a
Haven in the corner of a
Slave’s mouth.
It’s the same breath from
the pigeon’s river that brings
Rhythm to the throat of a
Child.
Water is medicine—Aṣèjìrẹ́
Knows one or two things
Of how thirst drown in its
Belly.
She knows about rejuvenation
Of Faded skin, of tired and
Cracked bodies crying for
a new energy.
Oh Rivers! What are you
Without your seaweed and
Giant water lily crown?
What’s this city if it makes
Enemy out of you?