Yangtze Blues

Three Gorges Dam Memorial Park, China

January 4, 2013

Far away, well east of Eden

virile rivers carved a valley

through the age of long ago.

Now stretching out in black earth flatness

cotton patch competes with paddy

tractor vies with buffalo

below the rolling orange groves

with fences lined in climbing jasmine

border rows of sycamore.

Here in the highlands of Hubei

I can hear its song

rising out of mist and mountain

gray home of gods now gone

refuge of wayfaring mystic and misfit

place where the wild torrent

courses through gorges

once upon some time ago.

But now the long river

languishes

flat and heavy

murky deepness drowns Three Gorges

sighs behind a concrete slab

controlled and still

until release.

To wander

ancient river plains

that birthed and nurtured

feudal lords

a brand new land

of grit and coal

of dusky skies

that smother cities

town and village

torn and pillaged

taken into concrete

borg till onward

into paradise

of tollway road

and high rise rows

in cities of ten million

souls, new centers

that were meant

to sparkle, broker

fortunes, beckon

dreams and draw

beleaguered masses

forward, soar

into the gray-brown

skyscape, lined

with cranes

and belching stacks

that stitch the land

and sky with smog

and seal the earth

beneath the load

of human progress.

East meets West

and ups the ante

heeds the siren

staggers forward

fading into midday haze.

And from the highlands of Hubei

so very far away from Eden

I can hear the good earth groaning

crushed beneath a billion souls

just seeking their century

salvation in wealth.

And so the modern world goes

as Gaia sighs and turns to stone

to wait upon a wiser age

when sages and keepers

will come once again.