White lightning illuminates black skies.
A tornado churns, destroying what's in its path.
Tornadoes and lightning command
our respect, fear, awe and attention.
The stream flows.
We must go to the stream.
It does not come to us.
Its power is subtle and gentle.
It waits until we are ready to join it.
And it keeps flowing.
It flows over and around:
Rocks
Sticks
Fish
Plants
Feet
Garbage
And gives of itself
in every moment.
The stream accepts all our tears
of laughter, gratitude, joy and sorrow
Equally.
Absorbing them into itself.
Storms come and go.
The stream is everlasting.
*This poem was inspired after I watched the new PBS documentary,The Everlasting Stream: A True Story of Rabbits, Guns, Friendship and Family, by Walt Harrington. I shall start his book by the same name tomorrow.
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