Trickling Twiddling Rippling River

OLD MISTY EYE, Fountain of Eden

Draped over spiked spine of wet-cold sleeping mountain

Ancient of Days, canticle of waters thundering aground

Rumbling and tumbling atilt and crashing around

Through craggy fissures of rock and sodden seams of silt.

Trickling, twiddling, rippling river

Splattering over bobbing twig, jagged stone and sunken rig.

Gentle flowing brook today, rowdy ripping rapids tomorrow

Frothing beneath drooping willows weeping in anguished sorrow

Dripping tears of yearning for enveloping arms of embrace

Like beads of crystals raining upon pallid petals in disgrace

Sagging visages in mourning, countenances languished in dread

Hands and faces of sad-bellied children solemnly begging for bread.

Fingers blistered raw-red, palms pleading for pity

Yanking at row after row of steel-wired fences

Erected by sadistic warriors on grassy knolls of the dead

Blasted by tools of oblivion, shoveled into prayers of lament

Entreating for rancid corpses ripped into scrawny shreds

By the malice of men marching to the animus of swollen heads.

Trickling, twiddling, rippling river

Splattering over bobbing twig, jagged stone and sunken rig.

Cataract cascading ridges of boulders, plummeting ledges of cliffs

Rollicking and swirling in peals of laughter, frolicking in reels and riffs

Splashing victims of disaster bathed in raging storms of night

Twirling from springs of justice, whirlpooling from eddies of grace

Bursting upon each new day’s space, billowing into the bright morning’s light.

Cascading Water

© 2018 Charles Davidson, All Rights Reserved

Charles Daivdson

Charles Davidson is a retired Presbyterian minister, psychotherapist, and professor of pastoral theology, care, and counseling. He is the author of Bone Dead, and Rising: Vincent van Gogh and the Self Before God (Cascade Books, Wipf and Stock Publishers).