In the Stomach of a Damselfly

AN UNKNOWN RIVER
Unknown
How can you tell a story, if you don’t have no glory?
They don’t know what to say. They don’t know how
to act. They’ll never know the truth, of who I came
to be. They’ll never know I was born of fire, and grew
in the cypress trees. They may never know I swam
in the bayous of Louisiana, or that I was born of
freedom, of beauty and grace. They only know I was
born with Passion, and fire in my soul. I was born my
own person, one they’ll never know.
An unknown river is a dangerous river. It feasts on
the vulnerable. It preys on the weak. Its sharp waves
and simple color attracts tourists and one another,
to win against the river is to be cautious and slow
because what a river does not see, a river does not
know, although a river sees all.