I am from strength and salt waterThe craggy Maine coast and a cottage called Whispering HopeThe home of my American grandparentsI am from gathered-up seashells and chipped sand dollarsBright plastic pails of sand and squeaky styrofoam surfboardsThe warm smell of slippery suntan oil and the chilly embrace of deep-blue waves I am from tradition and reverenceThe … Continue reading Home


I walk toward the ocean breathing in the briny salt air The stretch of sand seems much smaller than what I remember as a childAnd yet everything else feels reassuringly the same Wispy blades of dune grass sway in the breeze as clusters of seagulls squawk overhead White-capped waves join the chorus crashing gently against … Continue reading Maine