Braving the Wilds

Field Notes from the Suburban Jungle

Tag: You can’t go home again

Rites of Passage

For Lizzie

Snow fell in gentle waves
caressing the banks of a river,
singing a lullaby in steady whispers
over a harnessing, ancient dam.

Inclement warmth and winter rains
melt the icy duvet that draped the native
mountain laurel surrounding a lake
that knows only one outlet –

This channel that ushers its bursting waters
to an entirely new place
where there is room to spread
their anxious liquid wings:

An ocean, limitless, starting at its delta,
its alpha, autonomy, possibility, under
the warmth of the sun that raises weightless clouds
and will guide our waters home, again.

A House Made of Stone

Perhaps the origin of our own beings
Exists there, at the center of
Concentric ripples on water, where
The stone, a seed was thrown:
An ephemeral place that is only
An impression, a start, a beginning.

When we turned our eyes
Toward the sun, the waves
Extended out of reach,
The rock lay at the bottom of
The pond, while its smoothness,
It’s weight still keenly felt
Between our growing fingers.

In later years, while bathing,
Like elder salmon returning upstream,
We will search for that small piece of gravel,
Only to find that during our Odyssey
It has eroded to something
Altogether unrecognizable.