She is 20.
She will stay a child oF about 14.
I cut her nails. She knows how to brush her hair.
She doesn’t flap but rocks gently when upset.
I stand on the beach and look at my child.
She plays at the edge of the water with
the waves licking at her feet.
I am powerless watching her face the world.
I hope she will survive despite everything.
The beach is vacant.
The child still faces the world and
the incessant waves.
She will go on alone.
But always with my love.
