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Poem

Walking by Stolen Creek

the meaning of its name forgotten,

the word remembered.

Whatever happened here

is recalled

in another time and it’s remembered

inside the stolen self

that my blood river passes through

in thin and beautiful veins, not gold

but only a mere human heartbeat,

a circle of people

standing, talking, making their plans

as water passes by.

Something, someone is still alive, telling.

They think these are only stories

not what holds the world together

in its balance.

 

by Linda Hogan