I walked down to see
The mother river
With a bellyful of drugs
And a brain full of sorrow
For the waning of the world
She was strong-swollen
And reaching out
To stroke her
Children’s ankles
I hoped that
Having seen more
Of man than I
She would hold
The balm to fear
That I sought
So I asked her
-Mother river
You have seen
So much of man
Our glories and
Our follies and
Our love and
Our hate
What then is the
Measure of man
Will we ever change?
And in a soft, sad
Gurgle she replied
-Oh, my son
You who bear
My red flesh
On your boots
To distant lands
The measure of
The river is the
Measure of man
Ever the same
Never the same