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After an illness (#309)

22 Aug

Waves don’t care about death
or dying.
Even when they change
to whitewater,
push up onto the shore
and slowly thin out
until only a glistening on the sand remains
they are still part of the greater whole,
pulled back
to form the base of another wave.

Waves don’t care about failure.
As loud as they crash
they are still stopped by sand and rock.
And while sometimes they can harness the power
of a tsunami or a hurricane
even those, too, eventually lose
to the power of the earth.
But they keep trying.

Waves don’t care about numbers:
how many fish
how much of the earth’s surface
how many miles of shoreline.
Waves are the voice of the ocean.
Humans, like me, try to give it words and reasons–
To quantify and philosophize.

Waves, rightfully, don’t care about me.

 
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Posted by on August 22, 2016 in new poetry

 

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