Who She Would Have Been

She would have been fifty-seven today,

and when I try to imagine

who she would have been,

I can only see an eighteen-year old woman,

about to set out for

who she would have been.


And that is where,

I must leave her.


The Windy Waters

by Sharon Elizabeth Ortlip


The windy waters dance at night

In circles by the shore.

They whisper to the trees in sight,

“Come join the ocean floor!


The sky is wild and full of life,”

The waters tell the trees.

“Forget your many years of strife

And feel the easy breeze.


Lift the roots that hold you down,

For they are tired and worn.

Let the sun become your crown

To hide you from the storm.”


With ancient grace and peaceful pride

The bounded figures know

That with the eagles of the tide

They are not free to go.


To leave what they have always been

And blow it to the sea

Will give the trees a way to swim

But will not make them free.


The windy waters dance at night

And the white moon seems to know,

The ocean can teach the trees to laugh,

But never how to grow.



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