I NEVER MEANT TO CROSS THE RIVER

I NEVER MEANT TO CROSS THE RIVER

I NEVER MEANT TO CROSS THE RIVER

Who is weeping bereft inside our yard?

O mother! Why can’t you hear from me the endless rustling in my heart?

Yes I went with him to the river. Mother, I went along

but I never meant to cross the river.

You told me he had cattle. You told me his mother was your friend. Yet I found his smile a tricking, lazy thing that crawled across his lips.

His face is not a sun to rise each day above my sleeping. His hands were two chickens pecking at the hard seed on my breasts. I told him to leave my mouth alone.

He said he had a condom. He said

O mother: I never meant to cross the river.

I said I want to go back home. I tried. My feet disobeyed me on wet pebbles. Mother, I tried to run.

Mother, help me. I am sore between my legs; I am sore all the way deep to my heart.

I try to tell you this and try to tell my aunts. Why will nobody hear me? Why do your gazes turn away?

My aunts shout: it’s all your fault: none of this can be our business.

Mother, I beg of you.

I told him no: I never meant to cross the river.