Day Thirty-Eight: Resilience
Everything I know
I learned on the edge of a river.
It was early spring
and the Skeena was a snaking wall of muscle—
miles of shimmering silver backs
and a thousand-year-old body memory
ploughing through the impossible.
No one told me anything;
No one said a word.
There was only
the deafening weight of water
and the glean of resilience.
I learned on the edge of a river.
It was early spring
and the Skeena was a snaking wall of muscle—
miles of shimmering silver backs
and a thousand-year-old body memory
ploughing through the impossible.
No one told me anything;
No one said a word.
There was only
the deafening weight of water
and the glean of resilience.
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