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. Â
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And despite the gulf
She moved
Chanted
Danced.
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And neither accusation nor illness
Could dry the wise, old well of our girl’s seeing soul.
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