Crawling to the Cross

There was the sea. It went on forever in endless green gray ripples.

There were the gulls. Swooping and shrieking with their beady eyes and missing feathers.

There was the white lady. Stretching her swimsuit to its limitations, screaming at her children to be quiet.

I stood there captivated by all these images at once.

For a moment, I forgot where I was.

When I turned to find my son, he was walking away from all the things that occupied my mind.

He was, instead, walking directly to an old wooden cross with the letters INRI carved at the top.

How had I missed it? Why did he find it? What made him choose to walk to it?

Sunset at sunset

My son laughed in the freezing November tide.

I thought about my father taking me to the beach
and how he would go so far out into the ocean by himself,
leaving me to watch from the distant shore.

Each time he disappeared behind a wave I waited in anticipation for him to reemerge.
My heart was filled with a sick unspoken dread that the sea monsters would take my dad.

But each time his head would reappear and I would say a prayer of thanks.

Now, my son, ran to the ocean. Unafraid.

I ran behind him, took his hand, and held on tightly.

If the sea monsters want him, they've got to take me first.

The Last Train Home

The sparkle of your starlight makes a diamond want to shine
In the shadow of your spotlight, your own daddy has gone blind
The rain on his face is just cold water
where it used to seem like tears
and the God that he prayed to
finally answered after all these years.

You can stay, but you'll be alone.
All aboard, it's the last train home.