Grace

After My Watery Death & Deliverance

Our move was swift.

We packed our dust-covered instruments, 

wrapped newspaper around dusty photos, 

tucked mom’s wishing stones, smooth and 

unblemished into our pockets.

Our old lives packed into

cardboard boxes, we climbed 

into a twenty-five dollar U-Haul 

and drove five miles away from the Lake.

For dad the move was a feeble attempt

to grasp a memory of a time long 

before, when he and mom were not rooted, 

where he and mom drifted on a whim

finding music wherever they landed.

For me, it was shedding 

the skin of sorrow in the layer of life.

Dad said this move would be a fresh start

“We will figure it out as we go, Gracie.”

So … we left the algae ridden-lake,

tried to leave our pain behind.

Some pain you can’t escape.

We didn’t run far enough

in our desperate flight.

One town over is hardly escape.