River Sing Me Home

by Eleanor Shearer

“We all got our gifts—the things we see that others can’t. All we can do is use them when the time come.”

This is how we are remembered. In snatches of song, in dreams, in the smile that passes between mother and child. These are the parts of us that cannot be destroyed. These are the parts of us that feed the roots, and keep them strong. The soil is fertile. Our tree grows on.