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Ode to a broken family

I sit here quietly at the poolside, legs crossed with a white towel over my feet.
The baracuda makes a hum-hum sound as it spins its path across the bottom, 
telling stories intertwined, of love gained and love lost, time spent. 
I close my eyes to hear the sounds of life around me; the dog barks to break 
the echoes of the day that was. 
Birds chirp all around, and a branch cracks like the embers of a fire readying 
itself for a great sparkling night. A man speaks in his native tongue, "Hi Maria", 
and that moment itself has passed. It's quiet save for the plane that passes 
overhead, but I take a deep breathe and listen for my heartbeat. 
I can't hear it - it'll take some more effort. My shoulders drop to take in the 
quietness of this day, to release from itself the sadness of what was.
Dear Maria, I wish you'd let go, and listen to your heartbeat, and hear that God
wants to help. I'm not going to stop hoping. 

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