by Carmen H Gray
the waves lapped at the shore
industrial waste in a place
where freshwater meets saltwater
the bright sky viewing a town that feels like a story I’ve written
like time stopped here, somewhere in the 1970’s of my childhood
and it may as well be a repeat of those chaotic times these days
except here I am, a woman now
with a daughter who can celebrate
a date that has past
and here we are
souls brined
hearts preserved
bodies intact
and this is better than any man made holy day to me
Monarca Rising 