Lie back, daughter, let your head
be tipped back in the cup of my hand.
Gently, and I will gold you. Spread
your arms wide, lie out on the stream
and look high at the gulls. A dead-
man's float is face down. You will dive
and swim soon enough where this tidewater
ebbs to the sea. Daughter, believe
me, when you tire on the long thrash
to your island, lie up, and survive.
As you float now, remember when fear
cramps your heart what I told you:
lie gently and wide to the light-year
stars, lie back, and the sea will hold you.
I'm no one's daughter, nor a father, but as someone's child, this poem is wonderfully reassuring. It's that warm feeling you associate with home and the love that lies within. I hope that someday, I can be that reassuring, warm feeling in the deepest places of any future child of mine's heart. A touching reminder to treat life like a stream, and when you are too tired to swim and thrash anymore, simply float, look to the wondrous skies, and remember that life goes on, and you will be safe. You are loved. Simply wonderful.