For Marion Shore
A castle made of sand could not be kept
from being flattened by indifferent tides,
and when you thought of its demise you wept,
for nothing, in the end, it seems, abides.
The platitudes that half-consoled your kids
could also not withstand the waves’ assault
so that your woe flowed forth below eyelids
and burned with what the sea is full of—salt.
But in this world of beauties and of hassles,
of blisses mixed with ennui and woe,
we feel that we build models—like sand castles—
of things not dragged off in an undertow.
While loss of what can’t last has left us sore,
eternal castles line an imagined shore.
Photo: William Cho/Creative Commons
Mario A. Pita