Will you heave a sigh for me
- strength
and move

your embankment
knows my journey
all to well
familiar stones that grate
my soul
and chant my requiem

crumpled
I tread in immolation

Will you heave a sigh for me
- strength
and move

Vladamir gave me flowers today.

Today, I ventured on busy streets, through antiques, and flowers, carvings, and sketches. I smelled donoughts and thought of Janna. I smelled the sea, and thought of home. I bought books and looked at tea cups. At one point I stood against the protection of a building, map unfolded, looking like a tourist, willing not to be seen. A gentleman tapped my shoulder, "Excuse me, could I help you find something?" Gulp. I'd been caught. Embarassed I submitted to his inquiry. His finger led the way across my map. I didn't look up until I thanked him, and then the color in my cheeks deepened - he was a handsome stranger, whose face looked expectant. I lost my words, and walked away.

Weird Dream -

I'm walking down the street, quickly, I'm maybe on my way home from work or school, but it feels more like I'm on my way home from some sort of pause in life – anyway, I pass a very large bus stop that is crowded with people, and I know they've been waiting there forever, because I somehow also know that the buses are very, very slow today. I see a gentleman in his early forties, he's wearing a red shirt and jeans, he took the bus from wherever I came from, and now he's waiting at the station to transfer. I feel sorry for him, because he seems to be very discouraged about the rate at which he's getting home, and I am happy for myself, because I'm walking, and I know that I'll be home long before he is.

I cross the street and wade through the crowd of folk at the bus stop, and then I come out on the other side to a welcoming sidewalk with trees and flowers growing down either side. And then I am in a deep forest, and it's dark, there's a cabin up behind me, with a porch light on, but it's too late to knock on the door. Good thing I have my sleeping bag. I lay it out on the soft dirt covered in pine needles, and climb in, nice and snuggly. I wake to my phone ringing. It's early dawn, just barely light, and there's now a message on my phone from Pat Mosbacker (good friend from college), he says to hurry up and come in the house when I wake up, because we're going hiking (incidentally, Pat and I used to hike a lot in college).

The cabin is Pat and his wife Shauna's. I go inside. Everything's still and it seems that no one is awake. Steve (a friend from China) is fast asleep on the couch. Oh good, he's going hiking too, that makes me so happy, I really like him. I go into the bathroom to get ready, but it's all steamy in there – someone must have just taken a shower, I keep wiping the mirror, but I can't get the fog to go away. I can hear Pat in the other room leaving a message on my phone, and I can actually see him standing there, next to the bed, while Shauna is sleeping. I brush my teeth. And then, I leave the bathroom to find someone, I don't really know who, but I'm full of purpose. I walk back past Steve, and he stirs a little as I pass. If everyone's still sleeping, then I probably have time to take a little nap too. I start looking for Jake (another friend from China). I poke my head into a room all full of light, and there he is, sleeping in a queen size bed next to Dave. Hmm, no room for me. I find another room a little ways down a hall to the left, this one is very dark, and my sister is sleeping in the bed, I tiptoe through the room, and then ease into the bed at the side of her. She says "Hey Bon," in a sleepy voice. And I feel happy, and drift to sleep.

Then I'm hiking along a ridge with a whole slough of people. My brother Jonathan, his fiancée Nina, all of his kids, my sister Louise, Jake, Dave, Steve, Dr. Kenley, and some other people too. Suddenly, my nephew Bailey starts rolling down the hill, Nina runs after him (acting promptly like a pro), and I run too. He rolls, and rolls, and rolls, we're both yelling at him to stop (like he has a choice). And then he does stop, magically, in a bunch of tree roots. Nina had kind of run past him, to head him off, so she starts working her way back up the hill, and I run to Bay, pick him up and give him a big hug. Phew, he's safe.

Then there's suddenly a big crowd around me. Jayme's there (another friend from college) and Rita, Pat Hull, people from Powell River, who I grew up with. They're all very concerned, and now I'm holding a baby in my arms. I can see some sort of lynx (large hungry feline), stalking through the plant life in the distance. It gets closer and closer, and then it's face to face with me. The funny thing is, that as it has come closer, it hasn't really gotten any bigger. So by the time it arrives, it's about the size of a dog. I say, "Nice try, But we keep our young in the middle." And I tuck the baby, which has now become a stuffed animal, that mostly looks like the scary cat itself, under a bunch of blankets. I know it's safe because the crowd is forming a giant circle, and they're all good people, all willing to fight. But I am going to have to kill this cat myself. It starts making this awful mewing noise. Some kind of war cry. And I rush at it. I grab it by the neck and fling it to the ground. I start growling as I kneel above it, hand firmly around its neck. I'm winning. It turns and bites me. But I still have a hold of its neck. So I start flinging it up and down in the air, with a sharp whip-like motion, until its neck snaps, and then I hurl it at the wall.

I turn around, and there's a room full of people. A tall British lady with a blond/gray hair to her shoulders, and a long, sharp, crooked nose, is speaking with the Chief of Police. I am no longer an actual person, just some sort of viewer, it's like I'm watching a movie. But I'm also kind of aware that I'm the British lady, as I watch, and that I'm in charge of a profitable organization that saves animals. The Chief of Police is laughing really hard at a letter, and I want to know what's so funny. He says it's a bill, and I'll never guess who it's from. The Postman is standing off to the side, and he looks dumbfounded, like he's wondering how one of his letters could have caused such a kerfuffle. There are lots of people standing around, and some reporters too. The British Lady finally manages to get the Chief of Police to tell us all what's going on. Apparently the bill is from Jesus, he wants a percentage of the company's profits, because he's really the one working all the miracles.

We all laugh.

Memories rise behind the surface of their darkness
And I see myself
with all the clarity of yesterday
Things never change
Doors that have been fastened firm for years
suddenly gaping wide

I remember
a day on a boat
with limbs that couldn't fight the tossing waves
so we walked instead
and laughed

Wrapped carefully, in silver twine,
are all our sectets
Dark, swirling ink to paint our story

I put my head against your shoulder
And knew -
but couldn't answer

Feral heart, that couldn't move -
Past all that was unknown

How was I to understand,
that through all my life's excursions...
I'd one day stand on rocking water
And know again
But only smile

We sit in the dark, on blankets, overlooking the ocean - expectant.

"It's dark already, shouldn't they start?"

And then there's a bang or two, followed by a little red star slipping toward the water. Ooh, good, it's started. But this is Powell River, and in Powell River, we do things our own way. There's nothing for about 5 minutes, and then some anxious member of the onshore crowd sends a flare out to sea. Meanwhile, on a manmade rocky extension of shore, fires start to blaze on hula-hoops, and ends of ropes - ah, the fire dancers - we'd heard rumors that they'd show up. But they're so far away they look about two inches high, and I'm not quite sure how to be entertained by them.

I lean over to my mom and whisper in her ear, "It would've been better if we stayed home and watched Dad set himself on fire." She laughs. And the bored fellow off to the right sends a few more Roman Candles out into the dark night.

This is Canada Day. And I'm glad that we didn't have to pay for the festivities. I try and get my parents to leave - we should just go home. A lone firework over the heads of 3 fire dancers a quarter of a mile away, is not quite enough to hold my attention. But Mom and Dad, like two children, have their legs out in front of them, hands on their laps, and are staring out excitedly. They say, in small voices, "But we want to see the fireworks." And I can't disappoint their happy little souls. So I lean back against the cool grass, and try to take a nap.

I've forgotten, all this time I've been away from home, that these things always start out slow, but you're never disappointed in the end. The darkness is blinded by flashes of color, that fall sparkling and twinkling to the water. And I recall standing in lapping waves next to friends anxiously awaiting the next firework - will it be fat or skinny I wonder, because this one is for me, and if it's too wide I'll have to duck my head in the water. A silly game, but I'm young - and I laugh as I see I'm going under. I remember other times too, where I've sat with friends and family, and quietly watched excited children's eyes reflect the sky-scape. And I remember, that as weird as it can sometimes be, this is home, and I'm happiest here.