A Moment in the Great Dismal

Original post January 14, 2010

I grew up in Chesapeake, Virginia... and remember when it was a small, rural town. Sadly, much of it's charm has been swallowed up by the Norfolk/Virginia Beach metropolitan sprawl. In the 90's, bulldozers destroyed the trails I used to ride horseback down to the Elizabeth River. Expensive homes now line RiverWalk and the people living there now have no idea of the beauty that existed before their fancy houses were built. I miss the Chesapeake that once was, and the beauty of life along the Dismal Swamp and Atlantic Inland Waterway.
 
I also miss my Dad. He was the one who taught me to ride a horse, how to find a trail, and taught me to appreciate the beauty of the silent forest. Although the Navy brought him to Virginia, he never forgot his cowboy roots. He worked long hours, and prayerfully worked through the memories of Vietnam that shaped him in ways I'll never be able to fathom. It was when he communed with nature: in the garden, with our horses, putting up hay, or out in the woods, where he was most comfortable and found peace.

Recently I brought out his book of poetry to share with the boys. Since it's Father's Day, I'm sharing with you, too, as a tribute to his memory.

A Moment in the Great Dismal

As you rest and get your bearing,
Almost feel the swampland staring.

Feel the peaceful power of love,
In the soft cooing of a dove.

Hear your name called so clear,
Even though no one is near.

The breathing, do you hear it?
Is it the wind or the swamp's spirit?

Smell the soft perfume of flowers,
The scent will linger for hours.

There, see the mother's fear is gone,
As she breathes reassurance to her fawn.

Sense the snakes moving back in fear,
Creaking frogs silenced as the way's made clear.

As jeweled spider-hung curtains fade apart,
The ancient swamp's drawing you to her heart.

While you feel the gentle heartbeat
Of this ethereal retreat,

Know that man can never own it,
This enchanted place only few know.

Hear the ringing, listening silences,
A soothing benediction to weary senses.

Feel a mending heart as your spirit lurches,
Not felt in many man-made churches.

Hear the rattle of your horse's bridle,
Reminding you he's much too idle.

Then feel the gentle tugging of the pack mare,
Letting you know that she's still there.

Just as the earth's spirit chose and came,
Know that you will never be the same.

Written by my Father
April 21, 1991