It is not for want of testament
that puts pen to paper.
The battles are long past
and the need for revenge
or even understanding
has long since been kept on the saltwater side of the aboiteau
The marsh’s thirst is slaked
only by fresh water now,
its soil rich –
nurturing seeds of grain to sprout
and allowing flowers whose faces turn to the sun
to grow along its edges
Not for testament or immortality,
but for gratitude,
born of place
and of kindred spirits.
Testament and immortality will take care of themselves
if the sluices are kept in good working condition