Poetry |

“The Generations”

The Generations

 

 

The generations come and go. This I know:

When my father’s father painted ships in San Juan,

He feared the pull of the ocean’s undertow.

 

When my mother’s mother was carried out of her bungalow,

Wrapped in a plain shawl, her tombstone read: Peh-Nun פנ.

The generations come and go. This I know.

 

When my father spoke to my aunt from Guaynabo,

I cried when he said to me, his face pale and drawn,

“Your cousin tried wading through an undertow.”

 

When the sonographer revealed the embryo,

My wife and I called my mother, who rattled on:

“The generations come and go. This I know.”

 

When we danced and ate chocolate gateau

At my daughter’s wedding, I knew she’d soon be gone;

That restless pull driven by an inexplicable undertow.

 

When my daughter called all the way from Glasgow,

We learned, to our joy, of our new grandson, Sean,

Born to a current, like sargassum, I know,

Pulsating along a gyrating undertow.

 

 

/   /   /

 

פנ /  Hebrew abbreviation for phrase translating to “Here Lies.”
Contributor
David Santiago

David Santiago is a writer and technologist who lives and works in Northern Virginia.

Posted in Poetry

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.