Namaka / Oct. 16, 2018

My dad used to take my sister and I
seaside to you.
Before we’d even touch your waters,
he’d sit us down to pray,
for no matter how rough you could get,
we’d take the ocean breeze and the salt spray
to appreciate that you’d always come through.
You are as much a part of my religion
as you are my family;
Ever present in every conch shell,
a pleasant reminder that home is one call away.
And even now in the desolate cold of Staten Island,
I am warmed by the memory of you.
How you glow so absolutely, and how the sea
reflects the splendor of the sun and sky.

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