To Touch the Ocean

I sit with old mothers, watching the tide They curl fatherless children in their hips And watch the blurred horizon for ships Which left too long ago to remember Or for monsters or an angry wind They call their kids back from the dark They run from the lines of white foam And they scream while they laugh Grab fistfuls of sand to hurl like “take that!” To a void they can’t comprehend Wild and loud and enjoyable When it is chasing toes on the shore  Not primordial chaos, well maybe just. The threat of a sea of no names Is far from their minds while they play But near…