Went straight instead of left and
ended up at the dock
facing that water
running under and out from me to the foot of the colossal mountain
on the other side.
A mountain still
dripping from the evening’s rain
with white teary clouds still
clinging in the pines.
Cold wind rushes at me like soft forceful wolves.
I belong here.
I hear the low hum of the land,
and it tells me how old it is,
and how long it will remain.
I am old as the first person who stood here,
and I revere it as much as the last who will.
I wish I could run into the water and let all of me go.
I want to be the perfect line where the water meets the mountain.
But the wind rises, turns me back.
Says to me, Wait, you will someday.
But now isn't the time—
you’re still a part of the town.
So I turn back towards
and the town,
to Drive and Do a little longer before I return
to the lake.
there’s a boy on the lifeguard stand.
We greet each other
and he asks me why I’m here.
I say I came to see the lake.
He says he’s reading the Bible.
He asks, You’re not Christian?
He says, You should come to the Lake City Church sometime.
He goes there and he loves it.
Maybe I will.
I would have invited him to my church, but he was already there.
My church, my grave, my heaven.
Later I smile as I’m driving home because
we both came down that evening to see God.
He saw the lake
as the stamp of some higher man, but
I saw the lake
and it was enough.
It bathes in the same rains I do
but feels no chill,
and peers through the same nights I do
but never fears.
My heaven accepts me in life and in death.
I play in it like a child plays in the house she’ll one day inherit.
I feel so glad
I can see my heaven.
I feel so glad
I don’t need to imagine my God.