October 22, 2013

trash mandala

Nags Head, North Carolina

Let your fear fumble on this sand, like the kids

who race the gulls and bobble earthward, then lose themselves

in a magic carpet of shells and leave the birds

to their flying. Let your grieving meet this

shoreline so when the tides advance, they will gift you their seaweed

in exchange for yours. Let your pain become a trash mandala

you shape into a bicycle, with bottle caps for wheels and a taillight fashioned

from a felled pacifier, and look how bright and possible the beach becomes,

even in your solitude, how the castoffs sparkle, how what’s been torn away

can still steer you through the dunes toward home.