The burial — a meditation

Remember when we buried
your grandma’s
dusty seashells
in your garden
and you said
if we watered them
for a week
and ocean would grow
out of the ground?
I remember how we
woke up to the sound of seagulls
gathered on the grass,
and we ran to the window
in your eyes,
I saw
the unwavering light
of hope.

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