Her Bones Flow

Her Bones Flow
By Charlie Hartwell
Dedicated to Lucy Winton Bell

Her bones flow with the Rainbow, her spirit flows with God
Her presence shaped generations, I feel her in the land where I now trod

Her mate, her child, and a ceramic jar stood by a preacher, from her genes
They poured the last of herself in crystal waters fed from springs
Old willow trees have fallen, marsh marigolds are gone
But young new willows are weeping in spring fresh pedals will be born
Her bones flow with the brook, her hand I want so much
I walk a path with arms outstretched so her spirit hand can touch

The Hourglass has changed its shape, it’s now just a straight stream
I can still see the pond it was, when she would fish with me
But those fish hold here no longer, I see only memories
Life’s hourglass is changing, I can feel it in the breeze
Her bones flow with the brown trout, Her spirit is not far
Her reflection’s on the water, the bluebirds sing her song

The place where I gaze in autumn rays, on waters where her bones flowed through
Is a place she loves, a place God made, and a place she comes back to
Today I learned a bit more, bout resurrection of the soul and earth
Of life and death and life again and love and it’s great worth
Her Bones they flow through me, She’s here but I can’t see
She’s in a place more beautiful, than here how can that be
Her bones still walk this little stream, the generations change
There’s pain and joy and love all three in my journey of today.