Waves
janine canan
As I walk the wet sand
watching for Northern lights,
sun already gone,
my white dog a searchlight,
waves clapping in the wind,
all the teary voices rush into my ears
and my hair whips in the night.
Everything they tell me.
I go deeper in the suffering
and am flooded with the meaning,
foam feet running toward mine.
The lights come on --
of the city we are building.
My white dog waves her friendly tail
and stars appear.
Cold invades my heart with love.
Alive, they say, alive.
My white dog sits, and she hears too.
We are all waves --
roaring and whispering,
daring and retreating
and once more daring to love.
