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“River with no border the forgetful hand of man Gather harvest from the fallow land Take all memory from it to speak of lonely travellers who hopelessly took orders From armies lined within them marching over fields and valleys As though they were a river not a woman nor a man not a place for which to answer but a cold and shapeless journey from the sea” — Tamara Rendell
River with no border
the forgetful hand of man
Gather harvest from the fallow land
Take all memory from it
to speak of lonely travellers
who hopelessly took orders
From armies lined within them
marching over fields and valleys
As though they were a river
not a woman nor a man
not a place for which to answer
but a cold and shapeless
journey from the sea