Wednesday, February 20, 2008

The Poem

Making it

or A poem for artists
Dedicated by Lynne Oakes to her new friends
February 19, 2008

Coming through woods
We arrive.

The wide sparkling stream rushes past
With beauty and indifference – like Life.

Choices are made to start across,
Going from rock to rock.
Each one intent on making his way.
Nearing mid-way, caution sets in.
We seek out the stable ones
Teetering on the little ones, but moving forward,
Always moving forward.

A flat boulder near the halfway point
Is especially large and does not move
As we land.
We congratulate ourselves
On our good fortune
dry pant legs.

Newly arrived, we stand there mute,
looking around.
Bright waters whirl swiftly the way
water does, moving past with
debris and delights – like Life.

Safely in this place for only a while
We grin smugly at our wisdom in
Choosing this sturdy place.
Let the waters swirl!
A secure place together.
A rock! A solid sun-warmed rock
Sprinkled with the treasure of each other
And glittering mica.

Blessed with a moment both magical
And temporary, we rest here.
It is but a small oasis in the rush of life.
We gaze outward on the scene,
on each other.
We laugh because we made it this far with no real damage!
And then soon we must assess and decide
Which way to go, which path to follow to make it
Each one choosing their best way.

But just now, we stand here in this safe place
Gathering our wits, sharing our space
Wishing all to be successful in
Naigating the rest of the way.

We set off.

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