At the End of the Pier

Ashes to Ocean

Into the freedom of wind and sunshine


We let you go

         —Ruth Burgess

Nineteen suntanned disciples

of the dunes are milling around

the end of the Rodanthe pier,

long swells rolling under

our bare feet, shaking the pilings

as his brave mother hands out

sacred offerings of small cups,

ashes for her sad-eyed family

while I find voice enough

to speak … Into the freedom

of wind and sunshine …

but at we let you go

I lose courage, as if a rogue

wave has come leaping over the rails,

tossing me into the surf, flailing,

a bloody old fool gasping

for breath in front of wide-eyed

grandkids as I blubber on …

into the dance of the stars

and the planets, lashing myself

to my dearest dear on earth,

watching through rheumy eyes

as his five angels, gentle

northerly at their backs,

release our sweet boy to the wind’s

breath and the hands of the star maker,

ashes floating into the embrace

of the blameless ocean, each of us

shoulder to shoulder on this shaky pier

finding no small comfort standing here,

when there is so little comfort to be found

anywhere else in this world.

     —SL, Hatteras Island, NC, September 2024