Pilgrimage

by Kelsey D. Mahaffey

Who knows what the river intends?
A river is lost in pursuit of the sea.
It has no time for regrets.
What else is there to say? I am not a poet—
a poet is one with something to say,
and so far, no one is listening.
I could never get as close as you.
Water fills your lungs like air.
If I tapped your palm, blood would run
the color of tears. In New Orleans,
we meander the Saint-stained
streets of the Quarter, homing toward
the Mississippi. I sit on the bank 
while you jump in, eager 
as a reborn sinner. One by one,
the gutter punks follow,
diving among the debris—
their outstretched arms cleansed
by another’s delusion. Undisturbed,
the river carries on, consumed 
with its sacrifice to the sea.

Kelsey D. Mahaffey keeps half her heart in New Orleans and walks the earth barefoot beside three humans and a bow-legged cat. Her work can be seen in Arkansas Review, Pensive: A Global Journal of Spirituality & the Arts, The Sunlight Press, Cumberland River Review, Halfway Down the Stairs, Writers Resist, Eunoia Review and Minerva Rising Press. She is the author of the chapbook, No Fault of Water, forthcoming from Finishing Line Press.