So much was lost in the leaving,
in the shuffle of feet to the sea
and the coughs below decks, lost
in the squinting at unimagined sunlight
and the sting of feet on burning sand;
so much I can never regain. Right now
I could be stepping on hungry grass
that cannot harm because unknown to me,
or passing those special places;
wells that could cure the sadness.
Published in Chasing Shadows anthology
S.C. Flynn 