The Danish Waterfall                                                    

They speed toward the Danish waterfall
chewing over the century's ills.
The cook, while preparing sturgeon-slightly 
off-pleads passionately for donations 
to build the Seaman's Chapel. 
The First Officer spits into the rapids
decrying the loss of job security.

The spray of water in the Captain's face 
the rushing of trees and rocks
the rapid-fire indecision of men
in a reluctant hurry- 

"The Falls, boys, the Falls!" 
The Captain takes out his ship's log 
and finds the first page missing-
the cocked eye of the oarsman.  
The question of loyalty cannot 
be adequately addressed.  No time 
for the purifying lash, the 
instructive example, the-

-at the edge of the falls, they reach 
consensus: discussions of navigation, 
mortality, rules of engagement, rations
will have to wait.  
Wait until the next raft, the next 
expedition, the next
great urge, the next 
plunge, splash into the heart.

This has been a day of active wonder
a day to suspend rank and rancor,
to gather up what small hope is left 
and to live well 
beneath the foam.

The word is spoken, the day is yours!
Gather up your dead-sort out your 
nobles from your common men.
Look no more on God and carry freely
through white waters
the weight of all there is to do 
in this new world. 

  Joseph Coroniti


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