I walk the muddy path
boots squelching down
into the greatest puddles.
Water mixed with earth
And cow dung,
Trampled by the heavy feet of hunters
After pigs, and men and women,
Skidding now and then
On patches of treacherous clay,
After the reflections of their own
Inner peace.
The river so high now
The sun showing itself
In that surpassing blue
Here and there
Through the darkening clouds
Gleaming far into
the deep green water.
And all the canals
And waterways,
Weirs and water gates
Still directing its flow
Even after generations
Have abandoned the efforts
Of hundreds of years;
The ingenuity of mills
The wonders of knowing how
To use the force of all that water
Creating and maintaining;
Streaming human wealth
From the river flowing
From the mountains.
Lives given to the grinding of grain,
The sawing of logs
And finally the weaving of cloth.
And I am here seeking forgiveness
From the trees
And finally finding
That it is there
Flowing fast and strong
Through us all
As those humans knew
Who fashioned all this artifice
To direct what cannot
be turned back,
And will never be denied.
And I turn my face
To the force of
All that water
As it batters
Through my walls.
