Palmtree Contemplations

Here I am Barefoot and cold, Kicking up moments in the grey Their sunset edges bright Red, orange, and gold, The remains of a grace filled day. Here I am Pretty but sad Laughing at empty jokes that fall Dead on the ground with their Parachutes broken, An attempt to make gladness crawl. Here I am Thoughtful by night Filling the moonlit hours with songs, Notes binding open wounds 'Neath blustering skies. Mercy's salt makes a weak voice strong. Here I am Walking through fog Lamps gleam above, unblinking eyes Guard the way with golden Beams, faith's true color, For tomorrow the sun will rise. Here I am Rambling and lost Finding my way through freezing rain To where you stand, arms and Umbrella open To shield and strengthen in the pain. Here I am Hugging you close As we take the rudder and steer A clear path through this storm, Smiling at lightning. We are bound for home. Do not fear.

I grew up beside a river.  Every morning I woke up to its silent current running past my house. It was always there, shaping my days with its seasons and storms. Every year, it dropped during dry season, and tall, sharp, grass grew up along the banks in bright green swaths. Every year, the river rose again, and sometime during the winter break I might wake up to find that huge grass islands had been cut free by the current and were being gently carried past my house. It was silent, yes, but oh so powerful.  My favorite way to end the day was to dive off the dock at sunset and float until the stars came out. I knew how to lay in the calm backwater, where the current would not get me, but most of the time I let the current take me downriver. I enjoyed the letting go, the way nothing was required of me but to rest and let the current carry me.  My sister-in-law Hayden died on Tuesday. Writing this sentence does not feel real in any way. THIS DOES NOT HAPPEN, I keep saying t