Sea Glass

Sea Glass

Shaped and remade

By being shattered and abandoned,

Lost at sea

And over winter

Battered, assaulted

Day and night

By wave and tide,

Beaten and scraped

Into new glint

And shape

Which you did not want to be,

But then alas

Found anew

And newly found

Now to be

The cherished treasure

Of a wide-eyed child.

Made more opaque,

You give less light,

But by receiving more

Of that light

Which in the past

Just passed on through 

You help set the world

To a yet stiller sparkle

Which lends each finding eye

A doubly brilliant hue.


Sea glass is a piece

Of recent past

Discarded as trash

Remade a present treasure. 

Sea glass is

The driftwood gift

That men mistakenly make 

And children treasure.

Sea glass is trash

made by man and cast 

to drift.

It is a severest of mercies

For the mighty sea 

to recast it 

to a gift.

Your precious legacy

Is generous desecration,

Gemstone resurrection,

And Seashore ascension 

Into the salt and sand heavenworld

Of a child's open hands.



Found: from September 2016, a day of silence, on S. Rodeo Beach in the Marin Headlands.

Out of a free-form journaling/prayer including: 

"That which has been floating in my mind in this Year Without Writing: A sad selfish missing of my time and yet loving the daily practice of renewing my love(s) by coming home to touch the face of my son. Pressure, self-accusation, the ferocious and paralyzing fragility of his young soul. The magnanimity of his malleability and the burden of my/our responsibility. Each rare moment of pause is an instant reckoning, a calling of othered self to account, somehow me and my judge who is not me. Like always, in a moment exists a world. What are these fireworlds of the fleet and flighty soul? Not why but what have you been, O my soul? What big bangs of the self have I been drifting, sleeping through? What are the million apocalypses of the soul I've been too busy with habit to observe? Open and awake, O my soul. But arise slowly and trepid lest the light just burn me back to sleep! Let this day be one of finding tiny pearls among the sandy shores. Like sea glass: silky little treasures from the recent past, those gemlike resurrections of badly buried trash. Let me find today those gifts of color and light which I can handle and hold. Please just a little pile of sabbath stones to set to jingling in my pocket, a little roadside moment-tied ebenezer."