So one of the many things I learned while in Alaska was that my 16 year-old sister is a fabulous poet. She wrote three amazing poems in three consecutive nights while we were on our cruise. I figured I'd post them to my blog, so here they are in the order that they were written. The third one is especially powerful...
Alaska
Unplugged from confusion,
must leave it behind at last.
Surrounded by the ocean,
the storm has finally past.
We plunge into the beauty;
the nowhere of it all.
Alaska is a stranger
where foreign creatures crawl.
I stand up on the bow
with the wind against my face.
I feel so at home
in the free, majestic place.
The beauty of our earth
just flooded my green eyes.
Where water meets the shore,
and the mountains kiss the skies.
The ocean's determination
to be there for the whale.
The whale jumps, breaks its surface,
and then happily wags its tail.
The natural coexistence,
and the painting it creates
surround us with perfection
in its raw and untouched state.
We leave no trace behind us,
but the peace that came before;
and all that we take with us
are the memories that we store.
Digital or mental
our pictures will remain;
and so will great Alaska,
which will ever be the same.
--HW 6/09
Collecting Scenes
A bear lurks at the forest's edge.
Five whales come say hello.
The puffins float right by our side.
The sea lion's bark is low.
The otter smiles as it plays.
The eagle gives us the eye.
The moose gallops down the beach
as we float on by.
The glaciers carve inch by inch.
The mountains stand their ground.
The glassy water mirrors the sky.
The ocean makes no sound.
We spend hours collecting scenes
with cameras by the bow,
until the sun falls asleep
somewhere beyond the clouds.
--HW 6/09
What It Must Be
A friendly attack,
a look in the eye.
Though we rip through it,
the ocean never cries.
A crack in the ice,
the view from behind.
Though they fall apart,
the mountains won't rewind.
The eagle eats the fish.
The bear growls in pain.
Though the boat barges through,
peace will still remain.
The gruesome fight of nature
to be what it must be.
The avalanche and storm
create the calm beauty.
Nature isn't sad
for the things it may have lost.
Death brings out new life;
such glory has a cost.
The troubles we face
may come and they may go,
but the mountains cannot hide
under the thin white snow.
Though the damage may be out
for everyone to see,
every part of nature
creates its beauty.
And so the earth is whispering,
telling us the key:
let go of the past
and, at last, be free.
--HW 6/09
