The River speaks to me here,
But not the people.
Closed minded, ill defined geese
Who flock in senseless
Formations of oppression,
Eating the fish
Who struggle to survive in the water
Polluted by man's finest hour,
The age of industry.

The Land cries out to me here;
Years of fury the river can no longer cleanse
While the mammoth concrete beast
That flooded the falls
Creaks and groans,
The suppression of the once raging water
Building, building toward a crescendo
That will clear the way again
For the eternal journey back to the sea.

The spirits of my ancient ancestors' voices
Come to me in the Wind,
Screaming to me of travesties forgone
And yet to come,
Warrior Wind come to the defense
Of the once mighty River
But to no avail;
While the eddies bubble and boil beneath the
Façade of peace.

The River speaks to me here,
But not the people -
Ignorant fools who think they know.

04/28/2007

Author's Note: It just kills me when I see this once powerful monster of a river (The Columbia River) glassed over in the false calm the dams have produced. And the fish population becomes smaller every year.

Posted on 04/29/2007
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