The water travels silently today,

The rain filling the cup of the mountainside fully,

But not torrentially.

 

Meanwhile the dead trees line it’s path,

Marking the easy way down,

If not the fastest.

 

To the outsider the scene looks dead,

And the stream old.

Yet each drop of water is new.

 

Renewing each moment and racing to refresh those in need.

 

When we don’t get our way,

The expectation is not met,

The answer seems wrong,

Our heart wanted something else.

Sadness, resentment, reactions emerge.

 

Instead, light a candle,

Ponder why it is so,

And see where to go next,

The distance may be small.

 

And it could be on the road you were already on.

Gathered for the evening,

Warmed by traditional music, holding their spirits intact,

Keeping their common plight in a sacred, if unwilling bond,

As captivity holds their bodies, not their hearts.

 

For renewal awaits and cannot be extinguished.

 

 

Image from Vught former concentration camp, Holland. Artwork hanging in gathering and food hall for Dutch prisoners.