The Last Visit

Remembering the last visit with my mother On the other side of the Pacific, I brush salty tears under Tangled sea-swept hair. Twenty years ago at the Oregon coast Pale legs slung over bleached logs, We looked to the water-- Sipping coffee, toes digging For common ground in the cold sand. The waves did not stop. We did not recognise the hourglass, The endless oceanic energy Beckoning, calling her home. Last weekend I watched the waves Wear away tiny footprints, Flooding remnants of the low-lying castle My children built before running, laughing From the swirling surf. Sand and wind polish my scars. Warmth turns sand to glass And particles to pearls.