On The Shore

From caring for the thankless, to comforting the bereaved 

I found a family out there on the shore 

Through days without rest, and nights without sleep, we stood at the ready, for the wounded and the weary, the desperate and the frenzied, that washed up on the shore. 

Their numbers did not matter. Our numbers did not matter. Even when they washed us out to sea, we swam back and cared for them, in the shelter of the shore

Everyone us us, devoted to the task of caring for the hopeless, from bed pans to vomit bags, from drunks to junkies, from the very old to the very young, we cared for each and every person, in the shelter of the shore. 

Then the waters dried up. Though we worked and tried the shore became a desert and the hope we had ran through our fingers  like sand in the ocean. No matter how fiercely we gripped at it, it washed away. 

I’m here now, in the echoes of family and friendship, hoping for the day that I find you all again. 

Those gentle, loving, fearless hearts. Those who’s spirits I adore, out there waiting on the shore.


To my Shands Lake Shore family. I’m blessed to have known any of you.

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