The trench is filled
And the water is dark
And murky with leeches
And thorns and bones
The trench we must cross
To our in-laws home
Is filled with dry bones
And painted figurines
From yesteryear’s rituals
The trench we must cross
To our father’s house
Is filled with fearsome fish
And we must now jump
Into our destinies
The road we must now take
Is littered with bones
Of yesterday’s sojourners.