Miriam by the riverbank
	Prophesizing our deliverance
	Looking ever forward
	Yet cast out by false sight
	Not hers but his.
	A father who could not behold the reach of her senses.
	But still, she knew, we would eventually be redeemed.  
	And despite the gulf
	She moved
	Chanted
	Danced.
	And neither accusation nor illness
	Could dry the wise, old well of our girl’s seeing soul.
 
				 
															 
								 
								 
								 
								 
								 
								 
								 
								 
								