
72. Undertow
We left the city’s boring work,
To seek some fun at the river’s side.
The waters looked so cool and safe,
They seemed not swift, nor deep, nor wide.
And yet despite a surface calm,
An unseen peril lay inside.
Those caught here by the river’s grip,
Can rarely find the strength to swim.
Two hundred twelve have lost their lives
When they had left the river’s rim.
For underneath that seeming peace,
A deadly danger lurks within.
And so it is too oft with all,
Who think the touch of sin is safe.
With foolish pride they risk their souls,
Deceived by evil’s smiling face.
And yet the grip of vice is grim,
And pulls them down with its embrace.
(c) www.servingjesuspoetry.com
Unlimited non-commercial usage allowed.
(See Alma 30:60 and Mosiah 4:29-30)
Context
Just east of Bakersfield, California, the Kern River flows toward the city from the nearby Tehachapi mountains. By the time the Kern reaches the city, all of its flow has been taken for irrigation and other uses. Most years, only a large, dry river bed is seen, winding under incongruously wide, high bridges.
But closer to its source, the Kern is both swift and powerful. Some stretches are safe for rafting, and thousands come from all over the world to enjoy an exhilarating trip down the Kern. However, other portions of the river pose terrible dangers for swimmers. Fierce undertows, sharp rocks, and unpredictable and deadly currents are all hidden beneath an apparently calm surface.
In such places, picnickers may enjoy the river’s beauty and cooling breezes, but only from the shore. These dangerous stretches are all clearly marked, in English and Spanish, and many of the signs even list the number of fatalities recorded. Nevertheless, every year, scores of foolish swimmers enter the dangerous portions of the river. Every year, some of them perish. Every year, the signs must be freshly repainted to add the number of new fatalities.
We left the city’s boring work,
To seek some fun at the river’s side.
The waters looked so cool and safe,
They seemed not swift, nor deep, nor wide.
And yet despite a surface calm,
An unseen peril lay inside.
Those caught here by the river’s grip,
Can rarely find the strength to swim.
Two hundred twelve have lost their lives
When they had left the river’s rim.
For underneath that seeming peace,
A deadly danger lurks within.
And so it is too oft with all,
Who think the touch of sin is safe.
With foolish pride they risk their souls,
Deceived by evil’s smiling face.
And yet the grip of vice is grim,
And pulls them down with its embrace.
(c) www.servingjesuspoetry.com
Unlimited non-commercial usage allowed.
(See Alma 30:60 and Mosiah 4:29-30)
Context
Just east of Bakersfield, California, the Kern River flows toward the city from the nearby Tehachapi mountains. By the time the Kern reaches the city, all of its flow has been taken for irrigation and other uses. Most years, only a large, dry river bed is seen, winding under incongruously wide, high bridges.
But closer to its source, the Kern is both swift and powerful. Some stretches are safe for rafting, and thousands come from all over the world to enjoy an exhilarating trip down the Kern. However, other portions of the river pose terrible dangers for swimmers. Fierce undertows, sharp rocks, and unpredictable and deadly currents are all hidden beneath an apparently calm surface.
In such places, picnickers may enjoy the river’s beauty and cooling breezes, but only from the shore. These dangerous stretches are all clearly marked, in English and Spanish, and many of the signs even list the number of fatalities recorded. Nevertheless, every year, scores of foolish swimmers enter the dangerous portions of the river. Every year, some of them perish. Every year, the signs must be freshly repainted to add the number of new fatalities.