Staying the river, unlike man whose plans are merely passing
But to touch everlasting joy.
A new language hailing the souls of darker paths.
Under tongs into precious palettes.
Freedom has nothing to do with winning the race
Rather everything with losing the battle and finding
More of what was lost,
The very voyage of aligning wounds and hurts together
Bonds upon chains, salve upon slave
A reservoir where souls are safe,
A place, I can call home.
Kristina Neal-Mosley 2016