Star of the Sea
I cry for Stella Maris after Hurricane Sandy
when I visit at the end of summer.
Sandy trips off of people’s tongues everyday
as if the storm hit yesterday.
The hurricane sucked sand from the land back in the sea,
threw up dirt, sea water, fish, trash.
I walk the fence along the back of the property
with signs marked “Danger”.
Aftershocks don’t stop.
Gone is the wild flower garden,
only one post from the clothesline
tilts toward the house
to escape the tangled lines that pull it seaward.
The pavilion washed away in the storm
and I can’t walk down to the shore
or sit on a bench to watch the ocean at daybreak.
Each morning sunrise gets caught
in the grid of a chain link fence
that frames the shore with piles of boards
and bits of broken lives.
I lean against the fence
that stands between me and the sea
to get as close as I can
to a dune rose bush that hangs off the bluff.
Torn from the front of the pavilion,
its roots brush air,
most leaves are salt brown,
but it still bears tenacious blossoms.
A butterfly lands on a dusk pink rose
(Fist Published in Howl of Sorrow: Poems Inspired by Hurricane Sandy, Long Branch Art Council, c 2015)