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The Spirit of the Lake
by Lady of the Shadows
The spirit of the lake calls out with the cries of seagulls that fly above the water as they pass through the small town on their way to the ocean and some warmer climate.
She wishes they would stay.
The heart of the lake beats with the tiny waves
that ripple across her chest on a calm sunny afternoon after the first harvest.
The days grow shorter with each passing moment.
She wishes they wouldn't.
The soul of the lake dances with the children who splash and swim in her water.
Their happiness echoes through a warm summer breeze that rustles the leaves on a blooming Rose of Sharon.
She wishes this moment would last forever.
The voice of the lake can be heard with the quacking of the Mallard who swims alone
or the quiet whistles of the beautiful mute swan,
who glides across the waves,
faithfully at the side of his mate.
She wishes she could follow them.
The laughter of the lake can be heard with the children as they build castles on her shore,
building dreams,
dreams that only live in young imaginations.
She fills their carefully dug holes with her water and watches tiny boats and super heroes float by.
She wishes she could play with them.
The spirit of the lake weeps with tremendous sorrow as an empty pepsi can is thrown carelessly into her body,
her blood,
her heart,
her life,
plunging into the water like the athame in a chalice,
but as deadly as the sword piercing the warrior in battle.
The mallard tries to eat it,
but quickly realizes it isn't food.
She wishes -
more than anything else -
they would stop doing this.
She speaks,
she dances,
she laughs,
she plays,
she builds,
she weeps.
her water flows like blood through veins,
but no one notices.
She wishes they would.
If they would only look around with their eyes open,
if they would be very quiet and listen to the waves gently greet the shore like a mother greets her child with a loving embrace,
they would hear her speak to them
and see her for what she truly is,
She is real,
She is alive,
She is "home" to so many living creatures.
She wishes they would see this,
She wishes they would listen,
if only for a moment at the end of the day before they drive away into the sunset
and are gone for the Winter
with the seagulls who cry goodbye as they disappear in the clouds.
She wishes they would look just one more time before they go,
and this time,
listen with their hearts.
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