With her icy blue winter and
Frozen unyielding ground
Too hard to harbor deep roots,
She cries, but I'll never call her home.
My Russian grandparents must have
Lovingly laughed with raw cheeks
Protecting a warm spot in their hearts
Thinking of their children, else
They never would have made love.
My American parents never spoke
Of a motherland so I was silent too.
Their parents' frigid past failed to melt
Leaving an unexplained thirst.
No stories of survival survived.
Yet, I am most certain they are there
In my soul's DNA. For at the symphony
When the strings strike a minor chord
Or the horns blow a dissonant sound,
I respond beyond reason.
I AM SEA GLASS - A Collection of Poetic Pieces
(available at Amazon.com)