Harrowing River

The red Harrowing River,
under a moonlit night,
could make a mastiff shiver
and turn its master white.

Cold and wide, her waters
are rife with many a soul;
many men's sons and daughters
in her deep fathoms roll.

Her shores awash with evil,
her nadir heaped with death,
this sinuous, sliding devil
would stop an infant's breath;

would heave a crest at Yahweh,
had she that high a grasp,
and, were not Christ so far away,
on His hem she would clasp.

Should the Lord forgive her,
pray let us not forget
that baleful Harrowing River
that runs through man's heart yet.



 - 9.14.13