WATERFALL
Dr. R. R. Menon
There’s no adventure like the
waterfall’s.
Born and brought up on the snowy
hills
that fill the ace photographer’s
stills,
facing all the while the vast, clear
sky
getting off cloudy, knowing not why,
she needs to search below on earth
what frequent mood-changes are worth.
The river flowing down suddenly faces
a fall. It had majestically climbed down
from a height a-glow with rippling
graces
to spread the blessing of life and
trace
the cause of gloom, the search
transforms
itself as a mission of charity, and
charms
a whole low-lying, parched world with
water
as Darwinians rush the weak to the
slaughter.
It yearns now to descend to lower
valleys
where tear-drained eyes from crowded
alleys
anxiously see the dams intent on
release
of water for the rich on their higher
perches,
checkmating flows to the lower
reaches.
The water-fall remains beautiful, no
matter
whether flowing free or is locked up
later.
Unflagging in its nerve it discovers
the root-
cause, avarice, but still goes on
with zest
on its quest-turned mission on any
route,
natural or directed, with no thought
of rest.
Man does his worst to pollute, to
hijack
a gift of help on a wealth-creation
track,
forgetting the grandeur and the grace
of a waterfall rushing on a
self-giving race.