Down in the River

As I went down in the river-

It was storming, and the river in flood-

No one to pray for my safe return,

I waded out in the rushing water,

Stepping light on the shifting stones-

Plunged my hand in the muddy torrent

And pulled up water to anoint my head.

The river was brown with the foulness of flooding;

Cleaner by far than my face and my hands.

The stones of the bed made treacherous footing.

All the better, for

I went down in the river

To wash myself 

away.