TWO RIVERS

BY THOMAS HORNSBY FERRIL

TWO RIVERS THAT WERE HERE BEFORE THERE WAS
A CITY STILL COME TOGETHER. ONE IS A MOUNTAIN
RIVER FLOWING INTO THE PRAIRIE, ONE IS A PRAIRIE
RIVER FLOWING TOWARD THE MOUNTAINS BUT
FEELING THEM AND TURNING BACK THE WAY
SOME OF THE PEOPLE WHO CAME HERE DID.

MOST OF THE TIME THESE PEOPLE HARDLY SEEMED
TO REALIZE THEY WANTED TO BE REMEMBERED,
BECAUSE THE MOUNTAINS TOLD THEM NOT TO DIE.

I WASN'T HERE, YET I REMEMBER THEM, THAT FIRST
NIGHT LONG AGO, THOSE WAGON PEOPLE WHO
PUSHED ASIDE ENOUGH OF THE COTTONWOODS
TO BUILD OUR CITY WHERE THE BLUENESS RESTED.

THEY WERE WITH ME, THEY TOLD ME AFTERWARD,
WHEN I STOOD ON A SPLINTERED WOODEN VIADUCT
BEFORE IT CHANGED TO STEEL AND I TO A MAN. THEY
TOLD ME WHILE I STARED DOWN AT THE WATER:

"IF YOU STAY WE WILL NOT GO AWAY."