Standing on a jetty
admiring waves and eddies
that’s when I lost track of Alexander.
Well it always seemed to be
that he was on an Odyssey,
full of curiosity
how that child would meander.
I tried to keep a watchful eye
but he would always stray.
I should of been more diligent
more vigilant that day.
They say a mother, she knows best,
but I was never sure.
I always second-guessed myself
even when I felt the first stir
from Alexander.
That day it was as if the sea
has cast some kind of spell.
It called you in, much to my chagrin.
I wish that I had been fast enough
to catch you as you fell.
Well, then I’d have a different kind of story to tell
about Alexander.
I was frantically panicking
I couldn’t absorb this.
And all the moments that went by
were making me nervous.
Is there anything that I could possibly do
that could summon him back
to the surface?
A cormorant, the only witness to my shock,
it’s head thrown back, as if it laughed
as if it mocked me from its rock.
And if the cormorant could speak
well, it would preach through soiled beak,
“True life shall not be regained.”
And all the hours that went by
they seemed to lose purpose.
But I held up my vigil,
I stayed there until
my son was summoned
back to the surface.
And there you were,
in the sand, Alexander.
Covered in sea-foam and brine.
And there you were,
in the sand, Alexander.
So I ran down to the shoreline
to reclaim what was mine.
And I carried you back
and I drew you a bath
and I lathered you lovingly
with lavender.
Then I wrapped your body in linen.