A Poem For Ken on the Beach (A Metaphore for Love)
You asked me to write a poem
So I've gathered these pebble memories
          like colored stones and shells
          on the sandy beach
And sorted them by shape
And arranged them by smoothness
          and by the sound they make
          when held to the ear...

The fear I felt
          is gone

I open my heart

And write you this poem...

The sun glistened
          like the stone we sat on
Pressing a permenent impression
          into my mind

The tidepools rocked
          the ocean cradle of life
Stagnant pools, cribs
Biding for the tide to turn
          to wash the adolescence
          to be parents with children
          to return to the sea
Around like the day
          life ebbs
          waxes and wanes
          comes in on the tide
          and dries and dies in the sun

The lawn of seaweed
          blanketed the beaches of stone
And flea like creatures
          sprinkled and sprung
          like sea spray washing the sand

The crabs on land
          scuttled and scurried
          only a whisper
          as they wisk and skitter
          under a stone
I may have known they were crabs
          but they were never there
The memory and what I feel
          was the only thing
          that was real

The stoney beach
          grey stones reach
          high to the sky
Holding us rough
          like a dragon's palm
          curled in those claws
          afraid they will close
          and swallow us without a qualm

I prepare myself for the journey
          of sitting still

I was filled with sharp smoke
          and it stung like salty sea
I sputtered and coughed
But controlled the panic
          and clutched it in my lungs
          and waited while it washed me
And it was at that moment that I knew
          that I was able
          to drown

My thoughts tumbled
          and wrestled and struggled
          to be born and live
          a chemical induced labor
But I was silent instead

I was gone
And I was here
          all at the same time

Warily, we watched the water rise
          crash and splash
          between the crevices and cracks in the rocks
          that rippled still
          like folds in cloth

I was afraid of falling into the froth
It wasn't the height
          or the waves
          or the rocks
But I worried I would wrap 
          the woven woollen waves around me
I would lay low under lapping ripples
          and allow those crashing waves
          to be my casket, my sleeping place

I would become those waves
I would become that ocean
I would become this planet
          and leave my human life behind
          in favor of a new home
          within the home I live in

This is just what I feared...
          of letting go...

(Wed Aug 28, 1996)