She drinks in the river and lets the ice settle in her heart,
enclosing the fire they want to steal away.
They’re gasping, gasping for their lives,
but she thinks not, should have left the cradle be.
She ignores the red blood, the blue
for hers is deep green and never runs dry.
Hers is the proud tears of mothers watching their babes grow,
the sound laughter as they sever her veins.