camelless

On this Twelfth Night, this Epiphany Eve, i found myself going back through some old posts and poems. I wrote the first version of the poem below when we lived in Marshfield, Massachusetts in a house 660 feet from Cape Cod Bay. Walking the beach at low tide was a regular part of our lives. I am a long way from those shores, but I spent some time with the words again, made a few changes, and felt like it was a good word for tonight.

camelless

the Christmas tide is going out the waves of wonder that crashed against the sea wall of my heart are receding, reminding me that tides come and go, neap and spring such is the rhythm of redemption

in my mind’s eye I still see the Magi meandering, starry-eyed along the now silent sands the newly exposed beach is not a breach, but an opening an epiphany: Greek for “I get it now!”

come, let us walk along the shore, wandering and wondering our way between wall and water between Herod and hope to write our names in the sand and see how long they last

The last two lines gave me pause when I think of so many people I love whose names the tide has taken away. Grief, it seems has its own epiphany. I get it now.

Peace,
Milton

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