What You Gave Away

the pacific northwest coast holds a place i'd longed to see. an unmarked stretch of beach, tied to your memory. i made my way there, breathed that air and walked on those dunes. i sank my feet in the sand, holding your daughter's hand. there's a debt, sir, unanswered, i can't repay: what you gave away. they say the fire goes out on a star long before we know of the light that shines down on us below. i went to that beach, footprints trailing behind, to be washed out by the tide or for someone to