I see you as a distant mountain.
I see you as a foreign shore.
A small pinprick on some abysmal atlas,
A crumbling leaf on an ancient forest floor.
Who could have known we once shared the landscape,
Who could have known I once wore your clothes.
Now you leave no trail, no tracks for me to follow...
A branch falls, does the rest of the tree grow?
I worry that there'll be some giant snowstorm.
I worry that the continents will break apart.
I worry that the sands will be too great to number and
I worry that I'll never get to reveal my heart.
Do you know how to turn around, I wonder?
Do you know where the beginning starts?
Can you track a summer storm back to the thunder?
Live like the buffalo, as a whole, not apart?
I've been telling the stars to direct you,
And an avalanche to head you off this way.
Could the Northern Lights help to remind you,
Of a sister's love, of how far you've strayed?
Some prayers are spoken, some are never answered.
Some islands are surrounded by the roughest seas.
Some messages are sent without the meaning transferred.
Sometimes a wish flies south on the wings of geese.
Meloo/Melissa A. Howells Copyright 2003-2004
Filled with imagery and references from the natural world, for my brother T.J.,
the great outdoorsman.
