The Next Generation

Here
my body bends
like a reed
in the wind,

letting go of all
the heavy things,

and the silence
of the setting sun
echoes on
the water.

I am my mother’s
youngest daughter,

springing from the wetlands
with both my feet
where the cold shock hits
my young, pale knees.

I have no doubt
we are the same
— my mother, my sister —
the same dark lake.

Our bodies bent —
the long lost reeds
— we’re letting go —

we’re planting seeds.

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