Jean Marie Gunner

Jean Marie Gunner
We are all basically good.

Thursday, July 12, 2012

A POEM UNTITLED



A man sits by the receding shore

Waves crash but carry away their secrets

The water smells of salt and speaks of movement

The rhythmic dance of the love spoken

Between two souls

His arms are strong

His hands are textured

His face remains the same as before

His eyes are deeper though

Knowing more joy, remembering too much pain at this moment

The sorrow and mistakes will be washed away

And the tides of time and distance will carry the memories off, too

Like the ocean transports the shore life away

He photographs my son who is a willing

Collector of sea life –

Urchins, snails, shells, barnacles

My son creates a microcosm of shore life

All the life the world has ever known

Captured in a small clear Tupperware container

I transport my doubts along my life’s inner highway

My son stops from his gathering to inquire:

“Why do you write poems mom?”

 I respond simply that just as you are compelled to collect the sea,

I must collect myself in words

Just another way of making sense out of my world

And the encounters we have with

Love, happiness, pleasure, doubt, uncertainty, fear

All equally real

All expressions of life

All eventually carried away


(Written August 7, 2005 on the Maine coast just north of Freeport...a day spent with my oldest, Kailen, and my dear friend, Bobby)

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