Shine Down on Me

Thumbnail image respectfully lifted from Patrick Benson’s illustrations for North: the Amazing Story of Arctic Migration by Nick Dowson

This is always where I end up, no matter how hard I try to make something different to entertain myself, this is where I end up, no matter what. I see the fog rolling over the trees. In the bit of nature that’s available to me, and I wish that I were in that mist, and to join those gleaming trees. I wish I could be with those droplets of silver water, don’t like to be here in my self. Wish I could be a silver droplet of your water, not inside myself. The roof is slick with silver light. The water holds it, silver white. And every droplet of water is better off than me, every droplet of water knows it’s you. Every droplet of water is free of the burdensome me, and I get sorry for myself, you see.

A light shining on a ribbon of gold. The warm sound of a guitar. The clouds moving across the forest tree tops, and the memory of a star. The shells I picked up from my sister’s house, that she had gathered on the beach. Holding the lights of mother of pearl, the light is diffuse, and soft, just like my sister was when she was a little girl, before this life cut her in pieces.

I’m here to bring home all the pieces, that is clear, and I see the light that shines all around, and I see all the pieces trying to catch that light, trying to hold it in their bodies.

I’m just like these things, I just want you to shine on me. Won’t you just please shine on me? Like every bead in the necklace in that jar, I just want to catch the light. Please shine down on me, I just want to catch your light.