Look Back

As a child, he grew up
Watching the ocean.
Little waves crashed against the beach
At his feet,
He played in their white crests.

Each afternoon his father would leave
In his little anglers boat,
And bring home dinner
Before the clock struck 9.
The rest went to market.

And then he didn’t.
The boat washed up on the beach,
Wet, yet pristine and undamaged.
Poseidon’s cruel mockery
That wood is stronger than blood.
The boy’s father lay still beside it,
Cold to the touch, asleep.
He never woke up.

They pushed the boat out to sea,
The cool marine breeze of dawn
Wafting away the sweat on their neck.
The faithful fisherman
Lay at rest on the deck.
As the little anglers boat faded away,
The boy turned away from the ocean.
He never looked back.