I shot this photo one day last week. The trauma helicopter
took flight as I stood behind the fence. I reached out to the beauty of the
world. I could see it but I could not touch it. I spoke to the mountain. No response.
I no longer existed.
The helicopter returned. An unknown person on a gurney was rushed away. My desire was to help. The fence was in my way. I sat on the bench and began to pray.
I read Robert Frost’s poem “Mending Wall” as a Shawnee Junior High School student . I thought I understood the poem at the time. I did not understand it until today. “Do good fences make good neighbours?”
The helicopter returned. An unknown person on a gurney was rushed away. My desire was to help. The fence was in my way. I sat on the bench and began to pray.
I read Robert Frost’s poem “Mending Wall” as a Shawnee Junior High School student . I thought I understood the poem at the time. I did not understand it until today. “Do good fences make good neighbours?”
No comments:
Post a Comment