My paddle plies through northern lake
A loon emerges and instantly disappears beneath
Sailing in the breeze is a tiny feather
White, black, and luminous
Unruffled, the loon fishes in his domain
While the feather is drifting further apart
It escaped from other the diver's wing
It too left behind his home
The feather and I, we broke our tether
We're steered by currents and wind
-I forget adversity and futile anger
This lake has quenched the fire in me
Wherever my boat will take me
Whatever the winds hold in store
I face to the sun my weathered skin
I am afloat, and I will sing
(10/12/2012
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem