Thé Mississippi

The Mississippi flows from Minnesota to the Crescent City,

She holds back nothing,

Her watery hands shape driftwood for tourists,

Eagles land on her frozen shores,

Photographers lose their minds trying to capture her,

The perfect moment, the primal scream of an Indigenous woman rises,

You will not own me,

You will not destroy me in digital space,

I am timeless,

I am what heals my people,

I once could flow backwards when Mother Nature made a request,

I cut through limestone for centuries,

Still,

You try to tame the rapture of my waves,

Silly,

You do not own the earth,

She is a shapeshifter you will never

Hold close,

But maybe, just maybe,

She will invite you in to swim,

Under the moon,

Between the current and shore,

She finds healing,

Self-love is born of her waters,

Welcome me, Mississippi is a woman,

Her embrace lulls me to sleep,

I drown in her arms,

She rises after every fall,

Fall to Winter, Spring to Summer,

Seasons carry me to a land

Beyond measure,

She makes no apologies for her power,

And now, neither do I.