Lifeline – a poem by Eve Kagan

The grains of sand, so large,
not grains, so much as tiny stones,
revealing the passing of time
in waves across shores,
like the lines of my ancestors
reaching across my forehead.
A history. A memory of
mountains, dunes, the skeleton
of a world pounded into pieces
that spill between my fingers rough
and smooth, slipping off
my daughter’s knees as the light
hits her fine blonde hairs
she sprinkles them like
glitter, like magic,
while I trace the pattern
of life turning over.

Eve Kagan is a trauma-informed therapist, educator, and theatre-artist. Her poetry is forthcoming in Eunoia Review; her personal essays and short stories have been published in various journals and anthologies, including HuffPost, Role Reboot, Mothering through the Darkness, and Dark City Lights. She lives in Boulder, Colorado.

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