|
The Hudson River
New York City
This is the river
My river
The mighty famous river
Whose coasts grow tall weeds of steel
That reflect glittering lights at dusk
This is the river
My river
Whose source is named "Lake Tear in the Clouds"
Called "The River" by the Iroquois
And Mohegans named "The River that Flows Two Ways"
This is the river
My river
Whose tides bear down to the ocean
My ocean
Whose salt waters
Life's womb
A baptism of spirit
My ocean
Carrying boats, tankers, kayaks
Tugboats, yachts, cruises ships
Sailboats north, south in the sunset
That navigate the currents
Sharing their colors with the clouds
Grey, green, blue, teal, pearl, red, purple
Orange and yellow beams
Become a violet and pink seduction
That turn black with stars hovering
Over secret war planes
Whose engines low roar
Steal their way to foreign wars
As massive river tankers
Dark whales glide slowly
In the cold wind stirring ghosts
Ghosts on pine lined banks
Launching Indian fishing canoes
Lanape footprints in the sand
Ghosts of Washington's fleet
Sad wooden ships immortalized
As gallant messengers of the new nation
Ghost liners filled with emigrants
Hovering over the rails
To greet our majestic Lady Liberty
Whose promises called to their weary hearts
Ghost of a floating airplane
Attacked by a flock of birds
Rescuing folks on its wings
The Miracle on the Hudson
Ghost of a hurricane
Overpowering her
With moon waves surging wild
Flooding streets
Cloud mountains of rain
Whipped from the sea
The midnight river
Black silver ribbon
Cuts two cities like a sword
Swallowing sleepers' dreams
Dredged up as truth in the dawn
Sunrise glints on the mammoth cranes
Swinging containers from their metal beaks
Port Elizabeth - Port Newark
Host to mariners' cargo shipped across the world
That feeds and clothes people with soft middles
Blind to the ghetto origin of their wares
Packed like dead fish in the holes
Trucked on highways
Then laid out for sale like precious treasure
The rivers' seasons teach time
By being the Tao of flow
Changing landscapes over millennia
Set upon by humans dressing her shores with icons
This is the river
My river
Whose never ceasing rhythm
Washes my pain to the sea
Leaving my body
Floating light in the dawn.
|
