River of the Dead

I dance from the slopes of the Himalayas,
meandering through India.
Quenching the thirst of my children,
six hundred million strong.

I am water.
All powerful,
I am your mother, The Ganges.

Sacred river of the spirits.
Mother of India, they call me.
Resting place of the holiest,
Mahatma Gandhi.
His spirit dances over my head.
The water glistens on his wings,
under the blanket of heaven.

You call me mother,
Like a Judas to Jesus.
False Worship.

Your prayers,
Your love, your faith.
My ears hear you, but my eyes can't see through my murky waters.
My heart is broken.

Mother of the dead.
I could kill you all,
with a shake of my head.
The current flows with my tears,
My dolphins are dying.

Ghandi, the breath of the river says,
"Hate the sin, not the sinner."
I do love you, but where is my love?

The souls are searching for their path,
but in my murky waters,
they are lost.

If humanity is an ocean,
love your mother, the River

With a heavy burden of your dead,
my purifying waters on your head,
Take away the curse of the earth,
Help to clean up your mother..........The Ganges