Monday, November 4, 2019

A Cross from the Riverbed

Down in the Gospel Swamp
The Lord had Blessed the lima beans
And Given to the faithful
Holy Writ to squat
In “the Egypt of America,”
The snaky banks of the Santa Ana,
Where on the bluffs and islands
Of overflowing shores
Was offered Salvation free of charge
To any soul in need
Amid the Tule weeds
And broom corn
To Sweep the trespass away.

The swamp angels put up the tent
Wherever the water would allow,
And the Pumpkin Rollers stayed
To minister as they were ministered
The bursting celery fields;
They built a community
Among the black sage and arroyo willow
On peat
Where the Lord’s Word was Law
And the barley, potato marbles, sugar beet
Grew in the drained soil like a miracle
All along the Bolsa Chica.
The Right Rev. Isaac Hickey
From the fiery bellows of Tennessee
Had evaded the letter of the Homestead Act
From Rincon on to Phoenix,
Bringing only what he possessed,
The overpowering power of faith
Through the dense night fogs
And the constant flooding …

Such Trust in the Lord
Was not to be rewarded,
For the Rancheros inevitably
Shooed the flock away
Like so many lambs
(A small price to pay
For an Eternal Home),
And the Property stayed
Under the Charter
Of the Irvine Company,
Which holds it to this day,
No matter how many
Billionaire Chinese
Plant their Flags into its Sand
And share a sunset
Seemingly holy.

This Golden Land
Was always a passing place,
A likeness on the outer ring
Of heaven.