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Poem: Patty Joe of Stonington, CT

She worshipped the sunlight from the end of the marina,
The way the tide did tricks in the moonlight
When the world heard the lullaby of sea drift,
Knowing, in sonorous slumber, this too, shall pass.

We wasted years looking for what was perfect,
For what we knew couldn’t be found
Unless we set sail with means beyond grasp.
We wouldn’t embrace the essence of change,
The side of each other we didn’t want to see.

Like each new day, no wave’s spindrift is the same,
No two souls step anywhere twice.
I walked upon her—she was never alone.
She made my footprints ours to keep.

She still stands—being swayed
Only by what she can’t control
Her blue coat around her—a painted identity.
She faces her cousin, of same stature, glazed in red,
Two gems glisten with dawn and dusk.

We still wrestle with beings, emerging from depths,
Pulling at the very life of us. Begging
Us not to see the end where it doesn’t belong:
Death anchors us to all we could miss,
But feeds what we need to live,
Until the tide washes it back ashore.

Image Credits: Photo courtesy of Shutterstock

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