Gather people
for a story
so profound,
Not created by me,
But a rare, rare reality,
Where forces so profound converged,
Generations forward
were forever altered.

Where one person's heroics
were another's fatal error

Where a family's love
was smothered
in
the churning waters
of Big Lagoon.

Big Lagoon sits
north of Agate Beach
shining treasures can be found
in the gathering sands
To the west,
The ocean rises and falls
To the east,
The lagoon's placid grassy waters roll.

It was an Indian Summer's warm, warm day,
Everything it promised was delivered.
Two days after Thanksgiving,
I remember it well,
the fog was gone,
the sun was high.

A family dog beach walk

Howard and Mary,
Olivia,
Gregory, every one called him Geddie,
Geddie's girlfriend, Lily.
The family dog, Fran, chasing sticks
in the ocean and in the sand.

Time stopped for
a diamond moment,
sun reflecting off the ocean.

To chase a stick
Fran ran
a ten foot wave
took her under.

Geddie ankle deep edged forward
when within that frozen moment
another giant wave emerged
the cliff that is the sand gave in,
in the merciless embrace
of the terrible wave,
He was pulled under.

Down the beach
Howard ran
plunged into the waters
to save his son,
He only found
Kingdom come.

While Geddie made his way
out of those frozen waters
and could not find his father,
Called by what unknown voice,
He dove back under,
Not to be found
for hours and miles later.

What is the power of love
which would propel each one?

Mary watching this unfold
could not abide their fate
and herself plunged in
for one last attempt
at saving grace.

The ocean says
"Many have fallen in
but few survive."

Mary and Howard
rolled
in and out
in that frozen water's breath.

While Olivia and Lily
frantically
called 911
and struggled on the beach
out of reach.

The power of the ocean
the power of love
had made three
one.

30 minutes later
Fran ran out
looking to play
one more round.

If by the Pacific Ocean
you stand
see urgent footprints
in the sand,
By chance
you hear the plaintive cry
of
"Marco Polo"
voices calling to one another,
It is the ocean singing
their last lullaby.

Baby, there's a
white chalk outline in the street tonight
for the boy down the road
who didn't have a chance at life.

There's a lady working down
at the truck stop on Third,
and she's racing home tonight
to confirm what she's heard.

That's her baby in a casket,
not the usual sort,
and his mother's screaming in the storm
begging God to take this hurt.

There's a girl across town
who lost the things she had,
and the only thing she knows now
is the fright that's in her head.

Her father's in the living room
where he loads his shotgun,
almost hoping that the
**** from prom will
show himself again.

There are children in the desert,
in the city, in the streets
and they are dying every day.
All we do is argue
over what is best to say.

The journalists and soldiers,
those who worked a mile high.
Honest folks are turned to martyrs
and their names are used in vain.
No one considers rationale,
only how to profit gain.

We're political, tyrannical, existentially obsessed;
we haven't got a thought for those
who haven't even dressed.

"They aren't here; they're there;
we haven't got the time."
But if there's anything I know,
it's that my time isn't even mine.

"Jimmy wouldn't take me out tonight."
"Martha never called me back!"
"I wish that Art had never talked to me."
"I hope you have a heart attack!"

People dying every day
and no one seems to give a ****.

We are vain and we are damaged
and we will never be the same.
It seems that all which matters
is just how well you play the "game."

I'm thinking back to the times when I was camping last year
Sitting by a crackling log fire with Mollie at my feet
Watching the sun set over the trees
The smell of woodsmoke
Occasionally seeing a ghostly owl on silent wings
Hunting small creatures of the night
At such times I don't miss the company
Of mankind
I'm content with the solitude of the fields and woods
My only entertainment is what nature provides
The warm aroma of pine resin
The sweet song of the Nightingale
Who needs more than that?
I certainly don't
Out there in the woods I'm at peace with myself
I can put away the dark thoughts, the nightmares
Sometimes I will sit there until the early morning hours
Happy, content, not bothered by what tomorrows headlines
Might say
Unaware of the sadness, the daily death and destruction that makes the news
I look at faces on the moon
And in my mind see magic in the stars
Read stories in the crackling flames of the campfire
Solitude, peace, the time I love the most