For Rebecca, on Her Fourteenth Birthday

Some say life is like a river;
You who live beside the mountains
Know it is the wind. Not flowing
Steady and sedately; but in gusts
From every compass point it buffets.
Seeking not the easiest and lowest path,
But strongest at the mountain pass
Where all the venturesome must cross.

No less powerful than water is the air.
Each will have its currents and its shoals;
Navigating each demands as firm a hand
Directing hull or wing to bear us
To the chosen harbor of our souls.

But still it is the wind, I say.
For on it you can soar to giddy heights;
Be borne to every corner of the earth;
And see more clearly from on high
Than any ever saw atop a wave.

So gird your wings around you;
Pack your compass, know your way,
And fly! Fly for purpose, fly for joy!
But for God's sake, fly, by any means!

Watching you, I know I'll feel the breeze's tug
And raise my arms as if to sail beside you
In the sky; not with envy, but recalling
Memories of weightlessness and strength.
If I may, I'll send that part of me to follow.
For journeys on the wind are endless,
And we must fly together when we can.