Near the sea she sleeps /
What's Past is Prologue
Near the sea she sleeps
Shabby colorful scarves tied to the wooden bench where she sleeps near the sea—
Underwear full of holes drying on the railing that separates her from the waters—
A worn faux leather pocketbook under the bench bulging full—
A foam carryout box of Chinese food open near her bare feet—
She rubs her eyes as I pass by on my walk with my dog. She sits up
and smiles at my dog coming near to her hand to sniff.
I pause to ask “do you sleep here at night?”
She nods as she continues to wipes her eyes in the sun.
She gently pets my dog as she pulls herself up from her slumber.
She is dressed in layers of torn clothing, assorted fabrics and faded colors.
“Is there someone who could take you in? A relative or friend?” I ask.
I watch as she leans to drag her pocketbook out from under the bench.
From somewhere deep beneath tissues and paraphernalia she pulls out a photo:
“This is my daughter.” I view a picture of a smiling child in braids.
“She is grown and can’t help me. I don’t know where she is.”
“What about a shelter?” I ask.
“They are all full. I have a brother, but he lives in another state.”
She smiles a larger smile this time. She says “I am 69 years old now.”
“ I hope you can get into a shelter” I say, my dog pulling on the leash to continue our walk
to the pier where we walk daily.
The next day I again see her scarves and underwear blowing in the wind as I walk near.
A muscular policeman is talking to her as she is curled up on the bench.
“Some fishermen complained about your ‘stuff’ scattered about,” he says to her.
She looks baffled. “This needs to be cleaned up,” he says. She nods and smiles.
A Christmas stocking tied to the bench blowing in the wind has been added to her “stuff”
the following day when I walk past again with my dog.
She remains huddled and sleeping on the bench most of the time. When I pass days later,
her scarves, panties and Christmas stocking are still blowing in the wind.
Some days the bench is empty, but her “stuff” is still tied up and scattered about
One day as I walk near, no sleeping woman, no scarves, no Christmas stocking,
no holey underwear are blowing in the wind.
Where did she go with her “stuff” overnight caught between the wind and the water?
Now an empty bench near the sea.
- Kate Boyle
What's Past Is Prologue
John Russo
Photograph
About the Creators
Kate Boyle
Kate Boyle has been writing poetry since high school. She has also been a psychotherapist for many years. She enjoys her work. She loves to write everyday. Nature is a topic she often incorporates in her writing. She has been reading The Wild Braid by Stanley Kunitz, poetry about his garden.
John Russo
John Russo is an award winning photographer based on Boston's North Shore.His goal is to reveal the essence of his subjects whether landscapes, cityscapes, architecture, candid street scenes, or people engaged in their daily activities. He often focuses on overlooked or seemingly mundane subjects, revealing their unique beauty and significance.Regardless of the subject or style, his intent is to convey the joy and surprise that can be found in daily experiences, highlighting the rich stories that often go unnoticed by the casual observer. Through his lens, he encourages viewers to pause and appreciate the world around them, seeing beauty in the ordinary. His recent project captures the inner life of musicians photographed throughout the US and internationally.