Rumors From the Rice Fields

Do you recall your raindrops mimicking diamonds?

Do you remember you dancing and shimmering

atop rivers and streams?

Glimmering as joy seeps out of you during reunions with home.

Each drop lands while swaying rivers vibrate away from here.

Sound waves ripple out and I can hear myself.

I hear you and every version of self

-unknown becoming known.

The echoes of ancestors reverberate "This rivulet leads to the Mississippi."

-- I can travel home at any time.

When this land fails to be enough.

When this land fails purity and innocence.

When this land becomes too rough.

With a slow even flow during the calm of summer,

Remember, you will never thirst.

You are rice fields and bayous stretching into the sunset.

In the moist air, you are there.

This land is abundant, despite how they pull

and weed

and dig

and infest.

Remember, there is a seed.

Do you recall being a seed?

Do you recall landing on fertile ground?

No hand to till

and guide

and expedite.

Your journey has been centuries long.

Your journey is growth,

-- forming freely,

Just beginning and ending.