While sitting aside Muchalat Lake, on Vancouver Island, a poem came to me. While I certainly don't consider myself to be a poet, I felt the need to commit the poem to written form. And so I ran back to the campsite to grab a pen and paper. I returned to the lake and quickly scribbled the words from my mind.
While I don't foresee that anything "outwardly monumental" will come of the poem, I do know that the act of bringing the pen to paper enhanced my focus on the present moment. With that focus came a flood of joy and gratitude. For these reasons, this poem is deeply meaningful to me.
|Watching the sunset at Muchalat Lake. (August 4, 2014)|
My Shadow's Memory
I sit on the edge of the dock,
Straight-backed and cross-legged;
An empty cup of green tea at my side.
The morning sun wraps a warm shawl around my shoulders,
And casts a shadow at one-thirty;
Another straight-backed and cross-legged me sits by my side,
With a warm sun shawl enveloping her shoulders.
I close my eyes.
The sound of the dancing waves tickles my ears.
The breeze brushes against my cheek,
And lifts a strand of hair I had tucked behind my ear.
Moments later the strand is returned to its place.
I want to remember this moment --
The serenity of this place...this feeling.
And so I open my eyes and reach out my finger.
I trace the mountaintops that encircle the lake.
I trace every tree and every ripple in the water.
I capture the shades of green, the hues of blue, and the white snow on the granite summit in the distance.
From left to right, my finger commits the landscape to my memory's canvas.
I see my shadow friend in my periphery.
She is also fingering the mountaintops.
As we sit beside one another, I wonder if she, too, is capturing this moment --
Upon the canvas of her shadow memory.
Sitting Aside Muchalat Lake
Vancouver Island, B.C.
Tuesday, August, 5, 2014