I left my voice, down by the water.
It will be safe.
At least there, any tarnishment of tone,
will slip invisibly into the simple rythmn of the earth.
I can't hear it.
I left my soul, standing quite cold and still.
From beneath the protective shadow of the dream tree,
it will keep watch.
Sneak, back into the warmth of the sun?
My spirit has become weary.
On pure will alone,
it may fly me once again, across the search grid.
I hear, it is a good path....Trust.
If I ever find it,
I may ask a friend to walk back with me.
Down to the water.
Maybe, even ask them to help carry some of the weight,
if only long enough to feel unburdened for awhile.
Share gladly, the same in return.
Send it finally away.
We could sit and hold hands.
Watch and wait, for the heaviness of our fears and sorrows...
to finally sink, the broken red canoe.