Sand

This poem was written after my dad passed away.

Sand

 

I am speckled and dusty

With black, brown, and grey.

Tiny pieces with stories

Washed together.

They fall through my fingers.

They can’t be caught.

Only seen,

Only felt.

They are dead.

But my heels dig in

Searching for the chill.

A sign that my skin lingers in the depths for

A reminder of water.

There is an edge 

Where the water has hugged

And pulled back.

There is a moment 

Where the two become inseparable.

 

Reviews

[olla]

I lost my Dad over thirty years ago.. and still he rumbles around in my life.. something.. some.. little.. thing.. brings him unbidden into my consciousness.. as a girl in my time I was fortunate to have a lot of time with my Dad.. it sounds like you did too.. your poem is very good.. it touched that place in me where my Dad still lives..

[John the Baptist]

The passing of a parent makes us feel our own mortality. Though the death is not mentioned directly, it lingers powerfully in these lines. "There is an edge/Where the water has hugged/ And pulled back." The sense I get from this one is that although something has been lost, something will remain forever. Well done.