A poem for my students

I came to the river this morning

to wonder why it took me so long

to listen to the birds.

We have wandered about these mountains

for weeks now,

yet this morning it was as if

I heard their songs

for the first time.

The mosquitos are no excuse

for my distraction.

They are just a reminder of other worlds--

worlds where our attention is split

and we rush to heal wounds

that are superficial

and barely bleeding---

mostly because we know how to calm them,

I say calm, not heal,

because healing is too powerful an act

to use in reference to such things.

Meanwhile, the deep wounds--

the ones that drain us and make us forget how to love

go unattended.

I do not know why

it took me weeks to hear the birds.

Just as my students wonder why they cannot be

as clear and bright and courageous

out there as they are here.

For them this thought is novel---

a jewel they have stumbled upon in the stream

and turn over and over in their hands.

I know they will tuck it into their hearts

carrying it with them always--

using it to heal and speak truth.

I know they will forget how to hear the birds many times,

just like me.

They will swat at the mosquitos

ignoring what truly aches.

But I have seen the sunlight in their eyes

and know they do not fear the rushing river.

I take out my jewel and lay it by the river

as I write and listen to the sounds of the morning.

I let the river flow through me

healing

healing

healing.

I pray we always remember

to listen to the birds.

Wind River Range

Timico

30 July, 2019