Along the river
Filling with tides,
We will bend down
To plant rice in mud
That was here before
We came. Water
Touching roots, growing
Beyond memory.
We will pass
Neglected
Graves
Of the enslaved.
The earth holds
Their names
The way it holds rain.
We will dig through
Centuries until
We find them,
Bent to the earth
Bent to the water
We will plant rice
Beyond the numbers
Beyond the names.