I cannot control the feelings any more
than I could halt the moon-pulled tide
or the storms of hurt that rock me,
but I can weather them with patience
and wrap myself in their ashes.

I am not a phoenix blazing upward,
but I am the uncurling root and needle
of a pine seed after a forest fire:
one part of regrowth and restoration 
that sweeps across these lands. 

In a world where many people
make deserts and call them “peace”,
I remind myself over and over:
just my love can be a droplet of water.