Cry, The Beloved River

Juice filled mangoes hanging temptingly low

Sunflowers with faces raised to catch every ray

Clouds dancing against an azure sky glow

Beckoning as we drive to the river every May

The summer skies do not claim my wandering soul

The clouds are fleeting, wispy wanderers all

The call of the river on my soul doth take a toll

It pulls me every summer, this roaring river’s call

Come dusk, flickering flames on heart shaped leaves float

Sounds of bells and prayers usurp the summer skies

The river is holy, a life giver, say the men on the boat

But when bodies of the dead float up this May, the faith dies

Un-cremated, the dead scream, the king cries nor cares

This summer, the weight of dead bodies my holy river bears