Run Against The River Poem by Beth DeChamplain

Run against the bitter river,
where it flows so deep and cold.
Watch the fish that swim and quiver,
for their lives are not theirs to hold.

Watch your step as you're on the edge,
because one false step will make you drown.
You must be patient for the wings you fledge,
or the mighty shall look upon you with a frown.

For now your purpose is to simply live,
and to run against the bitter river that flows.
But how can you not count the eggs you must give,
when you can only dream of counting the cawing crows?

Do think to yourself, 'I must fly away, '
for you might rip your life's loosened seam!
Try to think to yourself, 'I don't want to stay, '
for you might fly on out of this truly perfect dream!

Please gain your wings so feathered and true,
and only let your frail feet skim the thick water.
You ran against the bitter river that's real dark and blue,
and with newly grown wings you're can become the mighty's daughter.

The mighty gave you one simple chance,
and you passed with colors you earlier missed.
You've returned the eggs that at you didn't glance,
and now the crows have hatched, and cawed, and also kissed.