Over on the Other Shore. One Response to Sandy Hook

On the way to the ferry today I turned a corner, and saw flags of mourning.

Flags at half-mast.

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Three flags at half mast at the ferry terminal. The Massachusetts state flag, the US flag, and a pennant at the bow of the ferry.

On the ground I saw a child’s paper airplane, fallen and forgotten.

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And my camera said, “Take me out, use me!”.

So I took pictures of the flags, and of the fallen flyer.

While I took pictures, village crows cawed, flew by, cried to each other and to the east wind.

They landed nearby.

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The door of the ferry was open.

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But the door was more than one thing.

The door did not just welcome.

It was also ominous.

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All I saw held layers of meaning.

My pictures were hard, tense, harsh, angular.

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Departure brought a maze of feelings.

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The ferry door slowly closed.

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We were going to the Other Shore.

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When I reached the other shore, in the garden at the lower edge of the supermarket parking lot, I saw goldenrod, yellow, still blooming.

And then, at the top of the lot, at the edge of the bookstore’s foundation, were more flowers.

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There is life among the rocks.

It is persistent.

And it is beautiful.

6 responses to “Over on the Other Shore. One Response to Sandy Hook

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