Caught in the Undertow
A
poem by Gloria Healy
CAUGHT IN THE UNDERTOW
Grief is like an ocean wave
rolling in and out of my life
with such force,
I get caught in an undertow.
Bits of the past flash before my eyes
like coming attractions in the movies.
A faded blue baseball cap
that shaded your eyes,
a salt encrusted fishing reel.
You're here again and I want to set up
the hibachi at water's edge.
This time I'll put the beef on the coals
instead of you.
Why did I moan and groan as I watched you
patiently cast that damn line into the surf
over and over and over catching only
an occasional blow fish, never a blue.
You burned me up when the burgers burned.
"I'll eat alone," I said, "I'm not waiting any longer"
You didn't hear me then;
you can't hear me now.
I hate eating alone.
You're leaving, drifting away once more, but
I'll be shelling on a cool summer's eve and
suddenly see your face in breaking surf.
Again I'll get caught in the riptide.
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