The whole world must look
different from where
she sits on a beach,
past that point
where I used to see
the sun set in the sea
so many years ago,
that magical place
Mark Twain ached over
and mocked,
yet deeply respected,
as if with the coming
and going of waves,
she finds deep truths
we cannot find
in ordinary places back east,
the grit of our lives
somehow not evident
amid the overflow
of tropic color
and the march of brine
that washes up to our feet
with each bold step we take,
she is on a journey or redemption
I can only imagine,
learning from the
overwhelming
environment around
her
how insignificant we all are
in the over all scheme of things,
if there is no god,
there should be,
since no other hand
could have shaped
such a place
or moved mountains
that we see,
no need of Mohamed
or Moses,
just the deep blue
sea.
No comments:
Post a Comment