Miranda

The Pond & the Spring

Late morning sun reflects off

A gray-white frozen pond

The stillest water I've ever seen

But warm spring air and thinness at the edges warns me that one misstep and I will break

Into night-black waters that would steal

Every scrap of life from me

Before I was asked what shape my emptiness was

And I refused to walk close enough to see it clearly

But gently, my brothers and sisters take my hand

And lead me through the forest to see

That I am

The weakness inside the earth

The softness of the dirt

And I thought stepping on that soil would cause me to fall through the ground

And be consumed by an unforgiving fire

But now I look clearly

At the jagged openness of my heart

And see that the hollowness in my soil lets water

Slowly

but surely

Bubble to the surface

It is healing and it is warm and it is so good

And for once in my life I finally believe

That from my wounds and weakness and all that I lack

Hope springs forth

I look back at this frigid and fragile distance I wish to cross

With new peace and clarity

Because most people would tell me

"Sure, that distant shore might be beautiful,

but there is no way to cross such thin ice without sinking"

And maybe they could not

But I look at the pale blue sky

And I remember I was gifted great snow white wings

And the breeze is so gentle this morning