The Boat Ride

Maine and More 317

A Prose Poem

It was the boat ride that first brought the glimpse. It was a clear day with the sun, and the wind tossed the waves. The boat was magnificent, refusing to yield. As she looked at the sky and the water, something took place, something was there, but she didn’t know what it was. The sun was reflecting on the water, but that wasn’t it. Her love was at her side, and they held hands, but that wasn’t it either.

She stared beyond the waves. Dolphins played, and followed the boat. It was then that she knew! Maybe it was their joy, jumping and leaping. Their fun was contagious. It was like talking to an old friend and not remembering their name. The old friend started speaking again, but she hesitated. Should she let him in again? She remembered the pain and the needles, being burnt on the inside. She decided to try one more time.

The sun burst into her heart, as she opened it. Her frail and thin body shook with tears. The old friend was hope, and he came to live again. She came to live again, refusing to yield. The cancer might take her body, but she would always live, from now on, in the hope, and in the light. Death would not control her. And the dolphins jumped for joy.

Writing and Image © Copyright 2015, nicodemasplusthree

Peace and blessings to everyone.

“If you love nature, you will love people.”

The Fight is in the Dance

by Mike Ziegler via facebook
by Mike Ziegler via facebook

They would never understand,

the reason he danced,

he didn’t hate them,

not really anyway,

tourists,

taking it all in.

They would never understand,

the pain,

the battle,

to stay alive,

to not give in,

and disappear.

They would never understand,

it was the only way,

to fight the darkness,

to heal the mind,

soothe the spirit,

to be connected again.

One night when he was soaring,

dancing, twirling, flying,

the eagle dance,

in another world,

he remembered

what Albert White Hat said,

“We must forgive….

or it will kill us…”

Tomorrow he would forgive,

tonight

he would fight,

and win.

They would never understand.

Poetry © Copyright 2015, nicodemasplusthree

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