Camp Erin

Friday … Carrying memories, photos, camp gear, teddy bears and trepidation
Fifty somewhat subdued children and parents gather

For three days …
Of words, ceremony, arts, crafts, sports, laughter and tears
in a village of children, hospice staff and volunteers ,
Standing at the memory board,
tiny hands like vice grips, voices whispering
‘that’s my father’ ‘that’s my aunt who’ ‘that’s ….’

Three days …
Of boisterous, bouncing boys and girls
in motion, emotion, pausing, whispering, yelling
Photographer,
one arm wrapped around a snuggling child, the other, camera a-clicking
Cabin big buddies, the entrusted holders of a wall of certainty, a wall to
wail upon, hold, whisper to in the dark of the night
Children
helping children
Artists, poets, therapists and graceful souls offering
parking space for healing

Then … Power Saturday …
Five hours of therapy,
Five hours of play,
Five hours of hugs and tears, archery and cannonballs

And Suddenly … Sunday …
All dusty, battered, bruised, teared-out, smiling …
Children returned, parents beaming, farewells spoken, pizza eaten
These precious well-orchestrated days of healing
meld into the fabric of our lives

Posted by:Tom Verkozen