napowrimo day 10
(first line prompt, first line(‘We don’t see the ocean, not ever’) by Philip Levine)
We don’t see the ocean, not ever
during the between months.
The ocean hugs our year,
but through our own family holiday,
just as some people measure their life
by a child’s growth, or the tree
they planted on their first anniversary.
No child cares how small they used to be,
back when. Not one. It is embarrassing
to be shown where you stood,
usually by the knee, or hip, places
you’d rather not acknowledge on anyone
older than yourself. What that relative
is really saying is, I never see you.
What the child hears is, I don’t care
enough about you to come see you.
And yet, that child does grow
and will soon measure others
by that same yardstick.
Let’s change this. Let us use the sea
to measure ourselves.
Who wouldn’t feel small? Waves
as plentiful as a country night’s stars.
And that horizon point, unwavering
constant, whether you arrive,
or not. Blurred blue embrace.
*** today was ridiculously busy, any comments are helpful, as this was just written in the past 15 minutes.