My River calls to me
As the wind dances through the gorge,
Frothy caps leaping,
A once exalted joy
By and by hushed in human progress -
Concrete structures - the bit now choking
The River’s once robust voice.

It’s such an unhappy song,
Wrought with aged regency -
A kingdom no longer its own.
These are not gentle tears
But a suppressed rage
Driving the beast forward,
Consuming every unwelcome being
Into its abysmal eddies and whirlpools
In a futile attempt to keep destruction away.

Once for nearly an eternity free,
The River is now adversarial host
To the imposing intruders
Used by mankind to produce energy -
The mammoth structures
Clogging the way,
Killing the fish and the fishing,
Flooding the falls and their symphony,
Muffling the voice of the Ages.

If I could for once visit the old Majesty,
The lusty white water roaring along unfettered,
I would cast my reverent steps along the banks,
Rally the salmon and their brothers in revolution,
Offer my body in sacrifice if only to keep
The new way from being paved.
Progress be Dammed
And not the River!
For if the salmon cannot thrive
Neither shall the people.

03/31/2005

Author's Note: This is a poem about the Columbia River, the river which runs along the border of Oregon and Washington, the river which I've lived next to for nearly all of my life. I wrote it for a poetry contest, that must be about the river, for which all entries are due on April 21, and I would welcome any suggestions for revisions/corrections. Oh, and as one more personal aside, my grandfather, whom I never met, was one of the "beings" sucked into a whirlpool near the dam and drowned long before I was even a twinkle.

Posted on 03/31/2005
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