Queen of the Newts

The air I breathe is clear,

The darkness has passed.

I hear it echo,

It echos,

The darkness has passed.


Memories enter—

They flood me of my childhood home.

The trees, the stream, the fish,

The basketball hoop, the trampoline, the treehouse,

The forts, the make-shift b-b gun target, the homemade jungle gym,

The shed, dad’s garage, the ivy,


But mostly that stream.


I understood my small world at a young age,

That water formed me, molding me into a human being.

I was curious.

I saw life, evolution, change,

Decay, rust, and death,

Truth, pain, and hurt.


That stream carried a lot.


I became a scientist, a naturalist, a Jedi warrior,

A raccoon, Indian, and hockey player,

A carpenter, eulogizer, and medium,

As well as Queen of the Newts.


I never thought you’d have to go.


How will you know where to go?

Which way to flow, and who to inspire?

Who will bathe in you?  Who will make sure you don’t dry up?

And why was I so lucky to have you in the first place?


My attachments are gone,

But my heart burns to return there.

Coming home to a place that no longer exists—

A nomad’s task, indeed.

Oh stream, stay with me, I plead.


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