I’m walkin’ by the frozen river. Its pale skin scratched by the claws of Eastwestern winds.
To bring fresh fruit for my mom, who died in the jungle tryin’ to save a hanging rope.
To help little rabbits with a new hole, for their mom asked me at the dinner table.
I’m walkin’ by the frozen river. Its dead body filled with red thick snow.
To catch the blue birds before they fly for good and get shot by my dad, one by one.
To say hi to the cabin guy who touched me when I was 5 but keeps his polite smile, for he’s sure I don’t remember.
I’m walkin’ by the frozen river. Its gloomy eyes dissolved in mountains’ tears.
To see our teacher’s shack who loves pure nature and my mom’s bones.
To swim for a while and hold my breath until next summer, when I’m old enough to run from here, and light enough to fly over the streams.
The river will come with me. She told me that herself.