Birthrights

My great grandmother's tears made the ocean

when she crossed the sea:

salt for every face left behind

for every brother, three.

I never cry much

perhaps my ducts are all dried up

Grandfather is gone now,

drowned in the drink:

his red wine river clotted,

poisoned, choked before the beach.

I, Moscato, he, Merlot:

We share eyes but couldn't see the same

Mother always rushes to the water,

coursing towards her birthright

along a shady shore:

a sunny place, all shells and salted bone.

Their skin grows darker by the sun

I molt, like Icarus above the sea

I once lived on the ocean

that one made of tears,

shakily I held up-

offered up- a lamb

prostrate:

me.

Pulled into roiling waves-

tumbling.

stripped nude.

lost.

I have been returned:

naked, throneless, rejected upon the shore.

Reviews

[Crowsef]

Congratulations on winning at our writing competition! Here's the review we will be publishing your work with.

On the face, it's a poem about the tragedy of family. The difference is, it is terrifically told from start to finish, and uses water imagery to impressive effect - and some of the lines are hauntingly beautiful. A stunning piece.

[wordman]

this was a sad and tretrious time in peoples lives,lots were lost a boatload of memories

[Laura Lynn]

"My great grandmother's tears made the ocean/when she crossed the sea:..." you have us there, these are perhaps the best lines anyone has ever used to begin a poem. And that's not all, for there are many other interesting ideas in it as well. I have to but some herbs and put them in old Twinnings tin cans, punch holes in the bottom, put them in a window sill. Those were the things I used to live for. And now what is it? Why type of people will I find here on this earth?