Over beers you told me about tramping through jungles in search of Mayan Ruins. I urged you to keep going, to tell me how you got there, and what you found. I ordered a round of Agavero to coax the tale forth.
You told me of swimming in cenotes and drinking cerveza with friends on the beach. You spoke proudly of your Washington roots and your children. When I hiked a portion of the PCT you took over trivia for me, charming everyone with your whit and smile.
I would run into you, swaggering around town in fringe and an inexplicable tan in November. We would embrace and continue to evolve the plan of the Central American Adventure we would go on in the hypothetical future. A trip I still intend to go on. I plan to make my trip to Mexico this year. To climb those ruins and swim in the underground rivers of the Yucutan.
It's been a year since we lost you my friend. And we still remember.
There is a place
In the grandest canyon
Where water gushes from rock
There is a mountain
Whose snows reach three oceans
There are azure rivers that flow
Through subterranean caverns
There are trees
In the jungle
Who pick up their roots
And seek out sunlight
And trees that stand a stationary vigil
For a thousand years
There are places where the entire night howls at the moon
Where the ocean glows
Birds travel far without passports
And they always speak the language
And life
In its humblest forms
Scrapes out a living in earth's least hospitable environs
There are alien worlds
With alien inhabitants
But the stories are all the same
There are webs
Connecting trees and rocks
Birds and bees
You and I
There are strangers
Making sacrifices
For one another
And a dog
Laying a comforting muzzle on his boy's knee
There is a singer singing
A band playing
And a young man
Wanting the attention of the
Young woman
Who he will one day marry
In the church on the hill under a cloudless autumn sky
Somewhere there is a father
Combing his daughter's hair
And packing her lunch
So that she can be ready for the day
So that she can lead a happy life
There are storms
To remind us
And there you are my friend
You are the eye of the storm
The spectral note of the coyote's howl
That calls all neck hair within earshot to stand at attention
You are the spirited burn of tequila
You are the rain
Seeking low spots on the plane
Sewing life where you may
On your journey to the ocean
You are the wind
And always will be
You told me of swimming in cenotes and drinking cerveza with friends on the beach. You spoke proudly of your Washington roots and your children. When I hiked a portion of the PCT you took over trivia for me, charming everyone with your whit and smile.
I would run into you, swaggering around town in fringe and an inexplicable tan in November. We would embrace and continue to evolve the plan of the Central American Adventure we would go on in the hypothetical future. A trip I still intend to go on. I plan to make my trip to Mexico this year. To climb those ruins and swim in the underground rivers of the Yucutan.
It's been a year since we lost you my friend. And we still remember.
There is a place
In the grandest canyon
Where water gushes from rock
There is a mountain
Whose snows reach three oceans
There are azure rivers that flow
Through subterranean caverns
There are trees
In the jungle
Who pick up their roots
And seek out sunlight
And trees that stand a stationary vigil
For a thousand years
There are places where the entire night howls at the moon
Where the ocean glows
Birds travel far without passports
And they always speak the language
And life
In its humblest forms
Scrapes out a living in earth's least hospitable environs
There are alien worlds
With alien inhabitants
But the stories are all the same
There are webs
Connecting trees and rocks
Birds and bees
You and I
There are strangers
Making sacrifices
For one another
And a dog
Laying a comforting muzzle on his boy's knee
There is a singer singing
A band playing
And a young man
Wanting the attention of the
Young woman
Who he will one day marry
In the church on the hill under a cloudless autumn sky
Somewhere there is a father
Combing his daughter's hair
And packing her lunch
So that she can be ready for the day
So that she can lead a happy life
There are storms
To remind us
And there you are my friend
You are the eye of the storm
The spectral note of the coyote's howl
That calls all neck hair within earshot to stand at attention
You are the spirited burn of tequila
You are the rain
Seeking low spots on the plane
Sewing life where you may
On your journey to the ocean
You are the wind
And always will be
RSS Feed
