I love this lake and all its moods.
Love how a loons song oft intrudes.
Paddled water in deep blue and green,
From her bays and islands to her feeder stream.
I know these rocky tree lined shores,
I know them well… but nothing more.
My vessel’s safe and strong.
I hate to get out and yet I long….
To see what else. And is there more?
Hard tho it may be, I know what the portage is for.
* For me, this poem is an allegory about moving on from a place that is familiar to a place that we don’t know… often through the course of a trial or struggle. The word “portage” means “the carrying place” in French. Anyone who has struggled across a rocky or muddy 1000 meter portage while carrying a 50 pound backpack and balancing a canoe over their heads JUST so you can see “what does the next piece of wilderness look like?” will understand this metaphor for life. I wrote this at the time that my grandfather was passing away. His last days here were such a struggle. It reminded me so much of a difficult portage. I prayed for him while he made his way through “the last carrying place”. I just know that when he reached the other side of that struggle that it was beautiful. I am sure it was hard to let go of this life — because it is a beautiful life and it is familiar and comfortable and we know what to expect. But when the time comes to leave… I hope that I have the courage that it will take to “carry over.”