The loss of mangroves is an adjustment. I am working through it, but it’s been hard. What follows are a few images and random thoughts.
AND THEN THERE WAS ONE
A lone sentinal
stretches new roots
in compensation for lost comrades.
I have found,
can be born from numbness.
A barrier the heart constructs
to protect itself from the reality
of what’s lost and can’t be reclaimed.
Why scratch a wound
that yearns to heal?
in resignation, we ignore it.
one can love too much:
A tree or a whimpering white ibis-
(from that same ibis – or egret)
that floats down the river
beside the broken nest of twigs
that it once knew as home.
I continue to struggle with this pain.
Yes, sometimes one can love too much.