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.