Under the hard of city street
and the parade of city feet
runs a river of connection
singing, pulling, calling you

its hushed underground
rises up and all around
like liquid version of clear sound
its movement, strength, that sings to you

thought the children hear it first,
they dance and shout, for new life thirst,
not given in to the adult curse
of censor and fear that hides in blue.

the rising river blurries borders
making dust of dividing orders
weaving together sons and daughters
to form family cloth with you.

washing away gates and fences,
lies, suspicion and false pretenses.
walls and territory, it condenses
till they shrink from your eye view.

and in this safe release of matter
-- meaningless that stuff of chatter --
there is now space where people gather,
the free, unburdened me's and you's.

pulling together to find learning,
letting go old life of yearning,
river's song heats hearts to burning,
it flows and flames and grows in WE.

See,
it will wrap around you
like sand and salt on ocean knees,
if you let it.

And it will die without you,
silence and ego bringing blindness, too,
if you let it.

I never knew the beauty true of this
sometimes Bellevue
when feets first touched down,
but oh, the stories our ground could tell.

It would whisper to old friends and neighbors
on porches in afternoon's hazy heat,
telling the stories of the faces that have passed by
this quickly-disappearing cobbled street.

Telling the stories of the city again and again
is sometimes, the only way
with gentrisprawl, to compete.

So lift, lift, lift it up people,
shake away yourself,
let your eyes see only equals.

If you think it, sound it out,
then make a move to make it real.
If you mean it, do something,
because complaints offer little
to the process of heal.

Act, because most regrets are said to center
on lists of things you did not do...
So unless talking about your dreams
IS your dream,
then just talking about them doesnt make them come true.

Make a commitment
to illuminate life for more than just your you,
feed love to the community river
of St. Aug, or, somewhere new.

Be it here, or some faraway there,
make your work in progress always
for the bettering,
your actions are the only real proof
of the beautiful views
your speech is lettering.

~ Kat Vellos ~