I sat with my mother
One day at the river’s bed,
And we exchanged with each other
All that was in our heads.
Oh, to be the cream of a cloud!
A dream gently afloat,
I said to her aloud.
Always sailing on a breezy boat…
To be a sweet singing little swift,
To tweet and play all day.
My wings are freedom’s gift,
As a gust lifts me away.
Oh to be the stream over sand,
To gleam and flow so freely.
To dazzle and dance over the land
Before meeting out at sea.
To be a strong wooded birch
With belonging roots stuck deep in soil,
Who offers shade when others search,
And knows no meaning of their toil.
She looked at me and fiercely said
Oh, to be me or you instead!
The wind shall never feel its bliss.
The swift shall never swoon to song.
The river shall not savor its coolness.
The tree shall never know it’s strong.
But oh to be you,
With awes, and woes,
Who loves, and knows.
She dropped to her knees
And put her face to the sand.
It is us, I guarantee
Who are lucky to understand.
While the sun does rip away your stillness,
As part of Knowing’s bargain,
The beauty exposed will be your fullness,
So that so much more than you lost you shall win.
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.