I am twelve,
Loving summer camp
With its quests
Unexpected and new,
Its routines and scenes,
Moose Pond in the morning mist—
A wide lake in spite of its name—
The cloud wisps decorating Pleasant Mountain,
Honeymoon and Japanese Islands
Loving summer camp especially this summer
Because I have a best friend,
We explore, discuss, absorb
The Maine woods and our unfolding lives.
Excursions and camping trips
Are my pinnacle delight;
For some, we paddle across or down our lake;
For others, we ride, singing,
In the open wooden-gated back of a truck,
Sometimes to a distant lake or river
That will carry our canoes to our sleeping cove,
Other times to a single day’s new source of happiness.
As on the day we campers climb
Over the face of a garnet hillside
Collecting beauty from the center of the Earth.
I love rocks—geology has risen high
Among the fascinations
That will rise and fall and rise in new forms
Across the eras of my life.
I am jubilant
Tapping on the cliff
In the warm Maine sun,
Small rocks sparkling with deep-red gems
To carry home with me at the end of summer
In a footlocker weighing three times
Its going-to-Maine weight.
I am snared in the unhappiness of junior high;
My Maine rocks join the granite boulders in our backyard.
As my years continue,
Rocks give way to new passions—
Folk music, the great apes, ice skating, literature—
I live a floating life,
Grasping the possibilities in view,
Leaving left-behind possibilities on the shores of memory.
I meet rapids
And create whirlpools where none are intended;
I flail against benevolent waters
Because they are not the waters I seek
Or believe I need to find.
After journeying to distant shores
Seeking elusive settling,
I return eventually to Delaware,
To our little white house.
Daddy shows me he has kept my loveliest garnet rock,
Stored safely against our sheltering home.
Now the garnet-filled rock carries in its crystals
Held among the eons its gems have shone
Within and on the surface
Of our miraculous Earth.
My rock carries within itself
Its ancient molten infancy
And refracts the Light
To bathe my ephemeral now
With insight outside of passing time.
The girl I was is not lost
But held inside of me;
The future I wanted but did not find
Forms strata in my knowing,
In the strength I have to share.
God’s garnets in my hand
Shine their peace-giving glow
On who I was,
Who I am,
And who I still can be.