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PassagesI come from the seaemerald dark north Atlantic conceived by its shore, born there into a foggy night of misty light where wild wet winds blew right through my bones reminding me I was only a temporary resident in my precious body. For fifty years I lived by the sea from Boston's north shore to Cape Cod's Provincetown and downeast to the coast of Maine. I hugged the shore and surrounded myself with small towns named Hope and Freedom Liberty, Union and Friendship. One day I moved to the farthest point east and anchored awhile at Sebayik* surrounded by the Bays of Fundy, Cobscook and Passamaquoddy where each year the whales returned to sing and our sacred foods were deer and moose fish and blueberries. At fifty-one I left on a fine September day packed clothes and books in the Chevy headed south and west to the high desert of Santa Fe where one ancient day the tide went out never to return. I dried out in the vast sky sun so fierce it bleaches out even the most stubborn stains. I linger where winters sometimes forget to arrive and rivers know only a memory of water. I sing my songs.
*Sebayik: Passamaquoddy Reservation, Perry Maine
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Issue #25, February, 2002 :
Santa Fe Poetry Broadside.