wide open 

old man on the beach
he might have wept

nothing worth the keeping
could be kept

the house on the shore
stands empty now

his heart was tore
wide open

only the boat lies broken
not the ocean

from another ocean 

tales were told at table

that night
and when it came to my turn

I said
why is it always my turn

and the answer came back
you’re the only one

here
so I recounted the days of my

youth
which I missed grievously

and told
of sorrows and lost loves

and worse things
wearing my heart wide open

recalling
the story of the whale mother

singing
to her stolen calf unceasingly

even
from another ocean