Do not try to save the whole world
or do anything grandiose.
Instead, create a clearing
in the dense forest of your life
and wait there, patiently
until the song that is your life
falls into your own cupped hands
and you recognize and greet it.
Only then will you know how
to give yourself to this world
so worthy of rescue.
I say...
The water rises steady below them
but never overtakes them-
When they reach the mountaintop
they collapse breathless,
laying on the rain-soaked rock.
A child tugs at his parent's shirt.
Through the exhaustion
she barely opens her eyes enough
to see a miraculous prism of light
arcing from the mountaintop
to the floodlands underneath.
That's when they see the ark
drifting below
its occupant so convinced
of his uprightness
that he lays claim
to all the promises of goodness.
The children begin to run and dance
as the mountaintop dries.
The women begin to look around,
assessing what can be used for
a celebratory feast-
a blessing that their worst isn't an end.
The daughter picks an olive branch,
gives it to the dove on her shoulder
and instructs it to fly,
offering it to the lonely man below,
inviting him to the feast.