Driftwood
I sit in unreserved silence on the weather-beaten log that drifted onto the tranquil shore of the Upper Arrow Lakes. I love these lakes that flow downward in their eternal but protected existence. It's easy to lose myself here in the serenity of the evergreens that watch over the lake. They give me the impression that I am sheltered in a blanket of safety. I contemplate over the things in my existence that have heartfelt meaning to me, things that created my spirit. I look down intently at the piece of driftwood, carved by the wind, the sun, and the water as it brushed against the shoreline. In my minds eye I can visualize it being tossed about on the lake on a windy day. I can imagine the wind slapping the driftwood against a rocky shore as if to punish it for invading its water. I could envision the sun drying it out so that it became parched so small pieces of it would be carved away. I question if this piece of driftwood was meant to meet me here at this time and this place. It helps me to comprehend how my experiences too have shaped and moulded my character. All of my experiences have made me singular and spectacular. Just like the driftwood, I am one and there is no other.
Written by Beverley ©
Music: "On My Own" Les Miserables
