Down the River

Let’s go now, boys, down the river
where the blue herons stalk through the cane
and beaver swim against the current,
quiet, strong, steady as the river;
where the slick amber walls of sandstone
lean over the brown god’s flow, rising up straight
into light and a thousand feet of vibrant space-

(withdraw)

That’s for us: sandbars and reedy islands,
deep still canyons leading into peace,
glens with clear springs, the plume of tamarisk,
silence, clarity, the sharp prints of deer
on the shore, down from the mesas beyond.

Bring your girls, your bibles, your poems
And children, bring in your souls’ and hearts’ courage
To search and hope, and prepare, and wait,
While the world we knew drowns slowly
But with sure increasing certainty
Into its predetermined swamp of madness.

(withdraw withdraw)

Once there we will build on rock
a house of stone that will outlast
all of their wars and furies, their carnivals of despair,
keeping on the hearth a fire of juniper
and wild scrub oak to warm the hall
and praise your eyes, your speech, your hands,
saving some part of the old virtue

(withdraw withdraw withdraw)

Until the smoke clears and the time comes
to leave the wilderness and build at last
on the poor black battered plains of man
that visionary city of the prophecies.

-Edward Abbey, September 1963 - Sunset Crater, Arizona