Finding what we lost along the way

Sing, my sister, for the joy of turquoise
for the love of stone
for the taste of hell on cracked and bleeding tongue!

Sing, Sing, Sing, my sister
for the joy of wet paper on sun burnt skin
for the raw hate of salami
for the sound of three hundred hungry mosquitoes!

Oh, my sister
my sister,
there is poetry left
though the lake has been drained
and our cottage burned to the ground

there is love to be found
though the loon dives for a fat fish
and the bats are full of bugs

there is a sunrise as perfect as yesterday's
my sister,
take my hand
we'll talk back up that mountain
and remember who is buried below

we'll drink that icy spring water
and feel the cool breeze

Oh my sister,
sing with me of merriness
and the meetings at the lake
sing of cousins, of aunts
of uncles, of dogs named Sam
and sandy beaches

Sing with me my sister,
of stumps and crawfish
of beer and boats
of the clear dark depths
to which we might dive
if only we hold our breath
and dare.