Sunrise

Clenched fingers hold time

The mind cannot release.

Fear of loss, already past

Holds thrall over

A free life.

The hurt is past

Hope remains

Letting go, letting go, letting go

The sun rises on a new day.

Memory

A poem for a wistful sort of day. . .

Memory

Memories wash over me

Foamy waves against my feet,

Calling me deeper in the marrow sea,

Away from the bustle and buildings of my board walk.

I carry papers with me

Of parents and friends and family and times.

They give me identity, they are a map--

Letters of introduction, explanation:

A warning.

The riptide sucks me down,

Papers float around me

I gather them, damp and precious.

Shiver in the breeze, holding them to dry.

To swim against the tide

Takes more than I am.

Somehow I'm always spit back to the shore

To walk the lonely beach and feel the sand burn my soles.