You are always with me.
We walk on different shores.
When you dig
your toes into the sand,
know I dig my toes in the sand
on another shore.
I know you think you’ll forget
my voice, but you hear it in
your dreams. How can you
forget my laughter when I
hide so many things in
your closet and on your
shelves? You’ll find more
everyday. We’re always
one-on-one, but we
walk in different ways.
As you search for black rocks
with holes from the ocean’s floor,
throw them back into the water,
and believe I walk on another
shore. I’ve searched for sharks’
teeth in the same sand as you,
but we must walk in different
tides until the long years
end, and bring you to a
promised shore.
I am never lost, and you’re the one
who believes I am here because
you say my name more than
anyone, and in your imagination
others shoot down as nothing
more than a boy’s mind long
gone, I know the truth. You
remember me, and when you
speak of gorilla kings,
I know you disguise from others
what you think and feel.
You are always with me.
We walk on different shores.
My toes dig into the sand
as you investigate
seashells in the water.
See how the tide pulls
sand over pieces
and parts that cling to the
shore. Some dull in their
gray from the constant
tide, but sunset lines still
come across pieces of
some shells.
I am always with you, brother,
just so you know.
I just walk on another shore.
By Rebecca T. Dickinson
Corrie's Season 