Mother I Am Resting
You picked me up.
I was dying
And you picked me up.
No one else knew.
I told them, I told them all.
You have to believe me
You have to take me
Seriously. I’m dying.
I know I looked alive
I knew my sound was strong
I knew my touch was warm
But I was dying.
You picked me up
I was dying
And you picked me up
It was like coming home.
Mother I am resting
From crossing a long ocean.
Lois Langland, Lines of Rivers