On a Journey

This sort of thing has been on my mind these days - we all have so many opportunities to start over, to make things better, to begin again. Blessed are the folks that are able to muster up the courage to say "I have another chance - just this one more chance." And blessed are those who say , "yes, please take it." It takes a strength that is in all of us, but a compassion that is almost not of this world. We all have times when we are called upon to start over. Times to forgive, and be forgiven - as hard as it is to make mistakes, and as scary as it is to explore new opportunities,  it a way to live forever while being born into life again and again -  an Ephemeral Stream, if you will. A baptismal font that stretches and winds back into forever, time and again, bringing with it new waters that never return, but that flow through on through that ravine until the end of time.

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Ephemeral Stream

Elizabeth Willis

This is the way water 
thinks about the desert.
The way the thought of water 
gives you something 
to stumble on. A ghost river.
A sentence trailing off
toward lower ground.
A finger pointing
at the rest of the show.

I wanted to read it. 
I wanted to write a poem 
and call it “Ephemeral Stream”
because you made of this 
imaginary creek
a hole so deep 
it looked like a green eye 
taking in the storm, 
a poem interrupted 
by forgiveness.

It’s not over yet.
A dream can spend 
all night fighting off 
the morning. Let me
start again. A stream 
may be a branch or a beck, 
a crick or kill or lick,
a syke, a runnel. It pours 
through a corridor. The door 
is open. The keys
are on the dashboard. 

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