i keep rewatching the video i took of the waves
meeting the beach in southern california
on the trip to my grandfather’s funeral 
because i can’t remember the sound of 
his voice or the waves hitting the sand the day


i keep wondering if the waves knew i was there,
if they were coming up to my toes to reclaim
the tracks of salt water running down my cheeks
or if they simply move through life without notice,
consuming any and every thing they come across, 
each pebble, seashell, and body 


i keep wanting to return to that beach,
kneel in the sand before the waves, 
and ask them if they remember who i am
if they don’t, i’ll let them wash over me, 
claim me, take me down to the depths
where nothing lives except darkness 
because i’m beginning to think no one, 
not even the ocean,
will ever remember 
this name, this body, or this soul 


NaPoWriMo Day 14: Went off prompt today

2 thoughts on “the mortality of memory

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