American Beach in Mid July …
On An American Beach in Mid-July 2020
When riding crest of wave in field of rocks
when battered by the constant to and fro
our feet are damaged moving us too slow
to escape time bombs tied to hands of clocks.
Yet here we are in sun upon a beach
an ancient sand line wrapped around a lake
to dip our wounds in tide for healing sake
and hope our death is far beyond our reach.
A beach where my children played in the waves
throughout their lives they’ve dug holes in this sand
to splash around the shallows for awhile.
But never thought these dunes could be our graves
we watch our loved ones slip from our own hand
due to a simple want to watch them smile.
For now the definition of “Beach Day”
has taken tone of showing great weakness
a day where mind no longer fights bleakness
to smile, to laugh, to pay for right to play.
On beach this day I find a common theme
a large collection of our young adults
too young to self examine any faults
pass joints and bottles as if in a dream.
My children will escape into the waves
of lake but I have fallen into crowd
of drunken teens who need to lose control.
One teen on Tequila wails about how he craves
“a father figure in his life” out loud
into my ears his spittle on my soul.
So now we wait to see sickness arrive
to plow the field, remove the grain from stalk,
to thin the herd or fly away from flock
remove the option for family to thrive.
The consequence for day out in the sun,
a change to definition of picnic,
it seems these moments take there toll too quick,
our smiling on the sand has turned to run.
Our loss is not the fault of teenagers
whose only goal was live before they die
they do not know they will return alone.
The darkness moves too quick to know players
or find some joy before the reasons why
so many minds are gone before they’ve grown.
Each breath on beach a suicidal act
the sickness comes upon you like cat’s feet
or where the morning fog and sun will meet
the stare upon our mirrors time has cracked.
What age is this but Age of Our Disease?
Where trip to beach has scarred my memory
my need to find a beach without a fee
becomes my Mantra on how just to please.
This risk that once would bring a loving sigh
holds possibility to ruin lives
like mine, or put sudden brakes on plan.
When I was a teenager and tried to fly
or tell the time by counting steep rock dives
the only worry then was getting tan.
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