HOLIDAY ISLAND

HOLIDAY ISLAND

Here on holiday island, just my love and me,
Drinks in hand and life unplanned, tropic, slow and easy.
I marvel at the wonder of the human brain,
To block out grief and blinding pain,
To walk again in splendor, swinging arms and swinging hips.
Is it margaritas or the gods' nectar that we sip?

Is this what it's like in the final moments before the curtain falls?
The bows, the curtsies, the euphoria, the strange unrealness of it all?
When breath it leaves the body and goes floating toward the ocean,
A final rhyme writ out of time and rollicking in slow motion?
When the drinks are free and there's no last call,
And the most bedazzling sunset it lingers in the sky.
No more the stumble or the fall, just spread your wings and fly.

Here on holiday island, I am loved and celebrated,
My union blessed by God and man, its majesty inflated.
Until it takes its place in the lexicon of romance,
My love and I we take the floor, in a celebration dance.
There is no more hate and no more fury and no more ice upon the pond,
God, at last, has come to me and he waves his blessed wand.
I am hurled through endless space, every sin forgiven,
And death it takes a holiday in this wondrous spot called heaven.

There is no need for bouncers or ticket counters at the pearly gate,
My father's there to vouch for me, my mother sits in wait.
They will be my witnesses, all who have gone ahead,
No matter what the doubters say there is no such thing as dead.
It's a world beyond our human grasp, beyond our comprehension,
A world no longer rife with strife and the poisoned fruits of our dissension.

No guns are needed, all cries are heeded, there is no violence here.
On the ride across the great divide, the schoolyards are secure.
Labels break in pieces that scatter to the wind.
Gay and straight communicate, enemies are sworn friends.
A light that gleams in blinding white, at last we make amends.

Every grudge is held aloft and zips away like a balloon,
Its helium uplifting, it makes its way toward the moon.
The comedy, the tragic mask,  they intertwine as one,
Then fall to earth exhausted in the pure light of the sun.
All is known and all is seen, the good, the bad, the in between.
To every man and woman love and tenderness is rendered,
With all the angels drunk on glory and God the great bartender.

Here on holiday island, where nothing's what it seems,
My love, he nudges my shoulder, I awake from my tropic dream.
Yet I know for the rest of my life, I'll be more than content,
Pondering my flight to God and back, and what its teachings meant.
I'll remember His hand, our walks on the sand, the day I saw His face,
Here on holiday island, the wondrous glimmer of His grace.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2013
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED