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.
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.
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