Once there was a river it was
made from mud.
It stole the hearts from men it dried and looked like blood.
It was all that was left of many
years of pain
Distilled by our dreams, a wound to
heal again.
I could feel a rush of anger in my
throat,
I would need some water on which to
sail my boat.
There would be a measure, the
distance between the cracks,
divided amongst the thirsty a flask
held on our backs.
There would never be enough, so many
miles to walk
A life to be saved, a lesson to be
taught.
I don’t remember the way it used to
taste
Was it clear from anger without the
toxic waste
Did it bubble slowly or gush from a
stream
Was it clean and healthy, Earth’s forgotten dream?
Did we turn it on and off, a tap, a
pump, a well.
Did we pay the price, was water
cleaned to sell?
Will divine intervention help us
fill our pail?
Could we flood a valley?
With tears we could not fail
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