i just came across this poem i wrote last year while having lunch at a winery near kelowna with a stunning view overlooking slopes studded with grape-heavy vines and the sparkling, sparkling okanagan lake.
once again it drives home the biggest learning i received last year: how deeply i am, and we all are, imbedded in relationships.
in plural it is: we.
we who lounge on the veranda looking at a vine-laced lake;
we who sneeze in trenches and blood splatters everywhere;
we who sit on tractors, fix computers, diaper babies, and who mourn the lost, lost memories of our fathers’ faces.
so much we.
a teeming, scrambling, giggling mound of mouths and arms and teeth and thighs.
yes, it can plough us under.
and yet, my friend, the singular is cold as ice.
(photo by jason and sue)