Today my sister, only two and a half,
looked up into the first waterfall she’d ever seen
a smug grin plastered fresh on her face
as her mother’s worried tone
and my strong soaked hand
were the only things that kept her from running into the torrential mist.
And I admired her happiness
and that she was not afraid–
that she would happily run into the downpour
and drench her clothes
and keep laughing with that look in her eye
as if she believed she could climb the falls.
That’s how I feel
when I’m with you,
and this world tries to rain on our parade.
When the floods cascade over the stones
and my fingers grow numb and cold
and the tears blur my vision,
I will keep climbing.
Because the joy of the challenge
is just too much to ignore,
and the cool crystal stream
feels so nice on my skin–
and I promise you:
when I stand
at the edge of the torrent waters…
I am always smiling.