This first poem began as a meditation on the water at Lourdes.
Water Is
We have forgotten the nature of water,
We have bottles and faucets,
pipes, sewers, dams, culverts,
all seek to control, to divert.
Water is wild, can't be contained--
from the sky, from the earth,
liquid or solid, sudden fountains
and floods, ice eating mountains.
Water is life, it refreshes, renews,
washes out stains. Wells, pools found
by digging, swallow light and sound
but reflect and reveal our secrets.
Water is gift. I found a small pool
with lilies adrift, catching the overflow
of the world, beads nestled among mosses,
a fertile place of silent generation.
Reflected, forced to listen, I found peace.
About 12 years ago a dear friend died suddenly from an embolism. We were all grieving, stunned by the suddenness of it. Then one evening I was driving home near sunset. As I rounded a corner, I came into the sun’s overpowering light, low in the sky, blinding bright and unexpected, pointed at me.