I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you.
You said you quit your job again?
I'm pregnant, and you walked out?
I found your stash of booze.
You suck at sneaking.
Your whore called too.
Don't come back.
Useless.
Drunk.
About the Creator
Hope Martin
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The River's Due
The river in our village was everything. Giver of life, bringer of death. It provided you with good fortune or stole your future. It was where the priests baptized us and the grandmothers blessed us afterward, in between the washing. The riverโs spirit whispered to us all, every day of our lives. When someone was lost to the river, those same traveling priests claimed God had called them home. We nodded to make them feel better, but we knew it was the river that had come calling for its due. We may have come to accept Jesus as our savior, but had our doubts he would have tried to walk our river.
By Shaun Walters2 days ago in Fiction
Comments (4)
I agree with Gabriel - raw and gritty! Nicely done!
Happy to read your poem.
He's such a cheating ass loser! Loved your poem!
Such a powerfully raw, gritty, heart-wrenching piece here. Thank you for sharing this profound piece!