Here in high Catskill country we walk
in part to break our souls : a dance through
naked woods naked, silently and in creeping
we toil. Arriving at these lone-spot falls we
take the waters : they tumble down upon
our heads and clean those very same souls.
This white man and his baptism of waters,
thinking like this they claim everything new.
I do not know where they have been, but we've
been doing this for a thousand years; yet they
still claim the waters and the act, and now
they are claiming our very Gods and soil.