Thursday, August 28, 2014

First Trip To The Beach

Hawaii, 2005

I tried 
to hold you high above the tide;
I tried.

Terror tasted salt and blue.

Once you were dry
and satisfied with solid ground,
I cried

for seashells lost
and the best I couldn't do.

11 comments:

Sherry Blue Sky said...

As a mom, I feel these lines so strongly. It goes on as long as we live, too, kiddo.

Helen said...

Sherry is right ... Same goes for precious grandchildren. This is a lovely bit of poetry.

Sylvia K said...

Oh, yes! As a mother of four -- even though they're grown now, I do so relate to this one!! Thank you, MZ!

mood wings said...

A very effective poem.

Fireblossom said...

Nothing cuts me to the core like the feeling that I have let one of my babies down, be they human or canine. But we can't be perfect, even though we want so badly to be, where they are concerned. She looks plenty safe in your arms, in the picture, Kelli.

Kathryn Dyche Dechairo said...

I don't have children but I felt every word of this.

Pallavi Dasgupta said...

Beautiful! I can completely understand the sentiment your lines relay.

blueoran said...

This so much reminds me of bodysurfing with my then 10-year-old stepdaughter in '88, how much she loved the waves until a big one caught her from behind and I couldn't get to her fast enough, ever. And though she was fine, I knew she would remain drawn to that wild surf and I could never protect her from what proved to be my own damage, her damage, the damage of that first marriage, of time etc. The poem always cries "for seashells lost / and the best I couldn't do." The poem holds so high that responsibility that is ours, or God's, or life's against death -- a duty we all fail, to our loved ones, even to ourselves. Amen.

manicddaily said...

Lovely rhyme and pic. K.

manicddaily said...

Lovely rhyme and pic. K.

Kerry O'Connor said...

If I had a reliquary for every tear that fell when my children experienced something new that terrified, mortified them or sent them reeling from the shock of failure I'd have enough to drown myself in... These rigours of child-rearing are devastating. I felt your pain in this poem, have felt that pain..