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