River Watch, Stockton
Any rain’s a blessing,
though it overcame the bridges.
One woman, barefoot,
keeps muddying the banks,
grabbing with her fingers for
foothold, coming up alone.
Her mouth and eyes –
the worst of weather.
In and out of the media glare,
“how does it feel to lose your
sons?” “...from across the sea
to solid U.S. soil. to drown...”
four sticks of incense will
find her sons in this blessed
water, each a distinct death; each
breath a prayer to reach
through opaque brown water
and the undertow of trash,
that my dog might resolve
their scent from river, and divers
in their natural blindness
grasp a child who’s ocean-bound.
~ Taylor Graham
from Casualties: search-and-rescue poems (Coal City Review)