Seven years ago I wrote my first poem, prompted by an assignment at a retreat. The only instruction was to reference the five life elements of Ayurveda. And so I wrote a tribute to my favorite place: the mountains I grew up in and still visit once or twice a year. I’m here now and in the quiet of a morning on the lake, the poem found its way to the surface of my memory.

Nothing is sacred, he said
Not even this place.
A sad ache seeps from my heart on into my bones
My experience of the world so different
And I wait days for words to form some sort of reply.

We live separate lives
But here is where we gather.
We set aside our differences and play
Here is where the dirt has soaked up ourselves
Year after year after year
And pulses with our memories, sustains us.

Summers spent one with the water (winters with snow)
No need for shoes, our feet crave the bare earth.
Fireworks enjoyed from the boat
Thin mountain air hot, then suddenly cool with thunderstorms
Backs against the dock, lake calm
Stars burst from the dark ether.

This place is nothing but sacred, she finally said
Knowing words would never convince him.
And so she released it all
Earth, water, fire, air and ether
Trusting the sacred to find her own way to him.

-RDP