Dreamweaver

To my sister Lizzie

Your soul longs for the sea,
even amidst storms that crush golden ships.
Yet you bear no anger.

Your generosity, like the tide,
returns over and over.

You were born to dream,
but dreaming was never enough.

Sitting in class, watching thoughts drift...
You had to weave,
to make thought a body,
to fuse soul and motion.

Ambition for unity guided you,
careful hands mapping distant stars,
but your spirit stayed untamed,
your mind unpredictable- a restless current
leading you to uncanny shores.

Too trusting,
you opened your soul like a door unlatched
and were burned.

Yet the pain did not end you.
You kept weaving-
each thread a memory of light given,
each loss teaching the rhythm of giving.

Now you rise from worn patterns,
charting your own constellation.

You leave safe shores
and sail into deeper waters.

There, in the darkened depths,
you will find this truth:
the same mercy you’ve shown the world
must now be spent on you.