Santa Barbara — a poem about prayers for those we can't reach

Santa Barbara

This shark-filled sea is as dangerous
as the lightning-lit sky above it,
and the ones I love most
are in harm's way.

The sharks smell blood
and the lightning seeks release,
and I can't reach the little ones
in my sinking dinghy—
can't send out a lifeline
from this distance.

How rough and choppy
these waters turned out to be.
There's nothing pacific
about the waves
of Santa Barbara.

Will rhinoceros skin grow
on these baby mermaids?
It seems that legs may be
more useful in these times.
So much has changed
yet so much is the same.

I pray
and I scream
and I make deals
with devils and gods,
but I feel unheard
and I fear the worst.

I'd give my life
to save these souls.
All I can do is hope
and grow old.