we are swimming upstream,

these are our waters and yet, 

we are parched

 

the house of God they built

has sullied our stream

 

out the back

our ways, our rhythms, our joyous wiggles 

are wasted away

 

in the front

there is expansive singing, reverberates across the back field

our people have swallowed the hook

It has grown into their stomach

they are sick, then sicker

 

somewhere out the back there is an older drum

Beating……

                        Beckoning…….

the tuna hear it

they are beating their way back

breathless,

swimming upstream