On the water’s edge, where foam
kisses sand and sea glass nestlesbetween kelp and littered mollusks
until high tide takes their surrender,
he screams into the ocean.
Bottled anger and demon sadness
that is touched with love releases
and scares leery bystanders
up the near empty winter beach;
they scatter like clouds
along the gray horizon.
Winds cut sharply into his face,
tears frozen thick enough
to bore through, memories of warm
hands ice fish into his core,
leaving him somehow less numb
and more human than before.
Salted waves lap against sneakers,
toes getting wet with the beginning
of life and the end of life,
as he gently gathers shells in hand
to give as smiles in another time.
Aleathia Drehmer 2009
Published by Creekwalker 7/09
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