If you float down that river
with children grabbing hold to each of your legs
and a third on your back for good measure
slimy moss on rocks skimming your sun-kissed skin
and cool water bathing, baptising, your non-religious soul...
If you float down that river
with those children of wild reckless joy
and you notice that man of wild reckless love
noticing your wild reckless magic--
the way your wet shirt outlines your holy body like a prayer...
If you float down that river
letting children lead the way to freedom
around the fallen tree branches
through the sandy, rocky waters of the deep unknown...
If you float down that river
wide enough for children of all ages--
adults, too, who never dreamt they could turn back,
be led by children, pushed on tire swings, fed star shaped pancakes for dinner...
If you float down that river...
when the trees shade the sun and your teeth start to chatter
when laughter has filled your out-of-shape lungs
and your body becomes the best type of tired...
those children will carry you upstream
they will tell you to grab hold of their legs
a hand on each child, their joint strength unmeasurable
they will pull you with all their joyful might
up and out of that river
they will carry you like an egyptian princess--
not so graceful, but they will all pitch in--
bring you into the sun again
find you a change of clothes--
warm and dry like sitting near a blazing fire
and when your eyes grow heavy from such delight
they will tuck you into bed
with tiny giggles and kisses
bemused by their magic, and yours--your playing along
that a thing like you could be so free
in a guarded global prison of grown ups
then they will go out into the woods, wild with cheer
worry-less about waking you
knowing nothing could stop you
no, nothing could stop you
from sleeping and dreaming
in deep joy tonight
