The crisp lines of the three volcanoes
against sky—these speak of the clarity
that shakes down at the end of this magical,
terrible time. It is time, Pele chides,
to doff the cloak of suffering and step
into the golden light that suffuses this land
and beckons, without fanfare, for you
to join it. It’s not about place, it turns out,
and you are indeed free.
Pele laughs because you have always
been free—she released you the moment
you were born to this Island.
And yet, your earnest heart bound you
to it—for a time. For a time. As the static
picture of your life on these four acres
dissolves into a slow fade, remember
what you learned here. About yourself,
what you are capable of.
And do not criticize yourself
when the lessons of these years emerge
nebulous or without clear definition—
it is the job of time to distill them
under your eye. Move forward, released
from the inertia that was never yours
but which you willingly entered—
and now willingly depart. Be as gentle
with your soul as you are with your palms.
All is well, sister. I promise.
And for your kindness, for your compassion
and generosity, there is exponential return
as the new picture takes shape. It will come
into focus—for now, rest easy, knowing that
the colors are right, the shapes inviting and soft.
Know that there is love all around you. Ours
is but a filament in the tapestry of love and light
that you lay over your life each night for sleep.
We thank you. This land thanks you.
Like a magical fairy you have tended it
these many years. Tended the people
who have arrived here, in need of your
soothing gifts. Remember your wings, love.
They have always been there.