Contemplations in a wooden canoe in the middle of the night in the Peruvian Amazon. |
the darkness engulfs us as the thin riverboat glides into the inky waters. cool water laps at the sides and the hot sticky day has faded into an absolute, final night. a spotlight searches the banks soft-spoken words in spanish weave through the cool air ivory caimans slip off the mud sliding into the dark not before we see them for only a second but gasp at the beauty. then we have stopped floating in the middle of the river spotlight off, the dark overpowers the only light from the stars. they dot the sky, freckles on a heavenly face forming patterns that tell stories passed on by grandmothers on nights just like this. in this boat we are alone the rest of the world so far away we don't even remember how much we've forgotten. we find the southern cross the only thing i recognize and i wish i knew more. i wish i knew the stories that would connect me to this place to this world that i float through unattached but entwined with those around me. wish i knew the stories that would make those ties stronger, and easier to speak of. the stories of magic and mystery. but as we talk, i understand the magic of what i am experiencing what i have experienced and i understand that this is the story i will pass on on nights like this. |