papua new guinea taught me to believe in overcoming.
in the middle of jungle green,
where there was always a fire burning to push back the land pressing in on roads and gardens and survival.
where the same flames that held death-dealing mosquitoes at bay by night claimed the smooth brown skin of children in sleep.
where rivers swelled to muddy brown and men’s height and demanded waiting.
but i saw lives whole and full in spite of.
for every bridge broken down or swept away there was another crossing made by the walking of men and women who only knew carrying on.
an entire village coming to the aid of mud stuck twin cab would stand with mud-spattered pride in the rear view mirror’s driving away.
a child’s hand covered in scabies was just a child’s hand—-meant for holding and high fives and swinging up onto shoulders.
possessions admired out loud were quickly gifted because without had already been faced down.
people gathered often. for food, for stories, for hellos and goodbyes. life too fleeting to be backed away from.
hardship is in this life and of this life and it is not a stop sign. there is a way to be found or made.