daylight crumbled <br />and the vast sky shifted endlessly <br />with flashing snowflakes <br />as wind howled unbreakable bits of sand <br />into me. <br />I turned my back to the blast <br />sat <br />and stared at the distant dim horizon <br />of ocean <br />to see far <br />but could not <br />then <br />for no reason <br />I could imagine <br />thought of my grandmother <br />dead now more than three decades— <br />how I never witnessed <br />the woman healthy <br />strong <br />only knowing the last part <br />of her human form <br />ravaged by heart attacks <br />her youth <br />just like <br />the dark outer edge <br />of the ocean. <br />This night <br />there would be <br />no vision <br />into the void <br />those luscious arms <br />pressing kisses <br />into six young children <br />hidden <br />and the children also <br />now all gone <br />including the second youngest <br />my dear mother <br />existence <br />just like that.<br /><br />Charles Chaim Wax<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/here-by-the-water-s-edge/
