She begged for me to save her from the waves
that washed away who she was in a tide
both firm and fierce.
………………………….,. I reached to grasp and hold
what pieces of her remained, but failed to pull
her back. I hoped, at least, my touch would ease
her fear and offer comfort.
……………………………………. Now, she’s gone.
Her harder, sharper pieces sink a bit
each day. Her softer pieces wash ashore.

I feel less guilty when I gather them.