It is springtime.
We unfurl the sail, to glide across the Hudson River as we often do 
on days like this.

On days like this, the flags flap in unison across Liberty State Park. We harness the wind, towards Lady Liberty.
fly past the cityscape
I look westward at my Jersey City, the picturesque greenery
From the vessel, we can see birds fly above the park in all its glory, the canopy of trees and flowers in full
bloom. They do not ask for much except for room to stretch out,
Silently nourish one another, beneath the ground at their roots
I see the emerald fields.

“Do they remember me stretching out, lying on the ground, observing clouds. I
am a little girl again. I relive a core memory, I am with my father. We unfold our kite, on a rare day off from
school or work, and city life. Here as the white paper diamond bends at its spine,
we lift, we find our breath - we too are free

The kite pulls hard against the sky, there is quite a tension in my hands.

‘Don’t let go” papa says.
“I won’t.
” I promise. 

The string is taught. The dance is graceful
This memory fades as we approach Ellis Island, from the sailboat.
Then the train station. 

I think of the ones who came so long ago with dreams in hand,
coins and promises in their pockets
I imagine a Tableau,
families, children, suitcases - a sigh is hope - is America.

Sound travels fast over water, and the faint giggles of children playing reach us,
I take in the panorama
bikers pedaling in packs, moving in the opposite direction,
a boy raises his hand, waves hello, then continues to look onward from a telescope
I wave back, can you see me? Closer ? 
I am smiling, I am happy for you.=

I see 
lovers on the bench, a stolen kiss, an embrace, a picture
miles down,
a woman, seagulls at her feet
 keep her company,
a man holds his hand above his eyes - a dog sits quietly beside him
for a moment - before returning home,
I close my eyes
I ask the wind and this verdant space to know me

I ask the fields to remember me, 
as I have always remembered,
The Empty Sky,
the winding road,
of my childhood

in this sanctuary,
where our hearts find their true delight.
and solace day or night

the cobblestones, the green oasis, the butterflies, the wild flowers, 
the summers, the autumns, the winters.

In my heart there is a tethered string to —------------------------------ memory

”Don’t let go” remains a promise