A shirt, a shoe, a ribbon, or a sock, When seen day to day mean nothing at all, But when scattered along the water's edge Seem symbolic and slightly melancholy.
Each bit a small part of somebody's life That is no longer there- But does that make it any less whole?
What sort of debris will I leave behind? Words and music and bits of crafty things, Perhaps children and families, And certainly friends,
For this is my life debris: The pieces that define.
I wrote this after a trip to the Mississippi coast not long after Hurrican Katrina.