Holding hands (Sachuest in 3 Parts)

1

This administration cut funding and now the trails are overgrown.

The flowering bushes drape themselves over each side of these paths along the ocean shore.

I feel like a returning soldier honored by this blend of blossoms.

Then suddenly I realize that neglect is neglect

and this path will only turn uglier and uglier in time.

Now I am thinking of those who have served and fought

and how for far too many their continuing suffering is all about neglect.

2

Then I see the fisherman.

I notice that he appears to be from the East.

I think of all the people I see here who fish.

How so many come here to fish who have come to live here from other countries, often to survive.

How they are so nice and how they smile at me.

How happy they seem to be so early in the morning.

How they bring their families and show so much love for their children.

How they come with carts and wagons and two to three poles for each adult and older child.

How they lug empty buckets and coolers with lunches and beverages.

How they leave proud of how many fish they’ve caught and how varied their haul is.

I think how this year I see less.

And I think how now there must be lots of very good people,

skilled at fishing, families who love each other,

Now afraid to fish.

3

On these narrow paths, we walk side by side, or run side by side,

But when someone is walking toward you, you go to single file.

A middle age couple, walking hand in hand, separate to go single file.

I tried to yield so they could stay enjoined.

Seeing them hand in hand is what I needed at that moment.

It gladdened by heart.

They were kind and considerate to this old man.

After they passed, I turned around and their hands were together again.

I took that as a sign of hope.

I was ready to return home now,

but I take it all with me when I go