Priest Lake Guilty Pleasure

Her guilty pleasure was not new to me,

I have been touched by her before.

Twelve years ago I buried my father,

The next day I visited her with my daughters.

It was the place he loved most and that feeling had been passed on,

Three generations strong.

We swam that day without a care,

Slipping into her soothing waters as the world fell apart around me.

Her clear water releasing the stress from my soul,

Water neither hot nor cold, embracing the body whole.

The feeling comes not often,

But come it did the other day.

Fire-fighters from faraway places battled a fire that threatened her,

Risking all to save the forest.

I slipped into her waters that afternoon.

As they fought flames on unforgiving terrain,

I soaked in her warmth.

The stress eased from my being,

Laden with guilt, suspended in her embrace.

The serenity, the peace.

Smoke in the distance; tasted with each breath.

There I lie floating; without a care.

Filled only with guilty pleasure

 

4 thoughts on “Priest Lake Guilty Pleasure

  1. shoreacres

    What you’ve written is a very specific instance of something we all experience: the need, the desire, to keep on living, even in the midst of tragedy, difficulty, horror. So many people in the world are suffering, and yet I eat, sleep, loll in the air conditioning. There is some guilt, and there is pleasure. it’s the way of the world. Perhaps being aware of the tension is enough, sometimes.

    Reply

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