january 2002
it is the elders trying to return
sensing the coast is near and they
will soon be home again
they have walked under two oceans
and too many seas
the nap of their silver hair whipping
as the wind sings out to them
this way this way
and they come rising steadily not
swimming exactly toward shore
toward redemption
but the wind dies down
and they sigh and still and descend
while we watch from our porches
not remembering their names not calling out
Jeremiah Fanny Lou Geronimo but only
white caps on the water look white caps
