Seashore

Water air and sun
with salty swoosh it beckons
Come and stand where wonder begins

To play
with sand pails and shovels
children leave their creations
gift offerings
for the tide to consume each day

the lost come here to find themselves
and the found to be reminded
of their infinitesimal smallness against the work of an eternal hand

civilization crowds with concrete and glass against its shore
the crush of man at lifes edge
the siren song calls them all

come here to die
come here to live!
Come!
you who seek....

and I will give.

The Idea of Staying

When your boss has lost his mind

when your husband seems to have joined him

when the smell of your kids hair at night as you tuck them in

isn't enough anymore

and yet

you stay


Women stay when men cannot

Some biological wiring?

Perhaps


Whatever it is

we women are good at it

we have perfected it

The idea expressed as art

The art of staying


As Moses stilled the Red Sea by lifting his arms

We women still the sea of restlessness the world provides

we come home each day

we absorb the cacophony of a thousand voices

our husbands and children have heard in that day

and somewhere

between baths and bedtime

we make an inward decision

to reflect a calm we do not feel


and after "Goodnight Moon" has been read

the locked door has been checked twice

and the last load of laundry is humming in the dryer

we sink into bed


searching with questioning toes for the seam at the bottom of our sheets

and as we turn over and surrender to sleep

one more day has passed its test

as have we
we stayed.