Waldport - The New Carissa’s stormy two-day
sea tow ended on a sandy stretch of coast that
looks much like the Coos Bay beach where
the ship first went aground one month ago.
- The Oregonian, March 4, 1999
On the same two days they finally towed
most of our local shipwreck
out to sea in a hurricane
and she ran aground again up north,
my sister was hit broadside
by an old guy running a red light,
and the elders of the church announced
that her fourth marriage didn’t count,
and until she got herself out of it
she wasn’t welcome to visit God.
It’s established policy, standard
operating procedure to prevent implying
to the other members of the flock:
“Go on, have at it, marry and divorce
any old time you like.” That weekend,
while my sister tried to shake the flu
and muck out the flooded garage
of the place she’d just moved into,
I was mostly listening.
She’s managed through all this
to stay off booze and crank
and she doesn’t even seem
to have a bone to pick with God.
All my sisters, all their husbands
and grown children know exactly
what I think, but that didn’t stop me listening,
as I did years ago when I was taught
the story of Job and silently lost the faith
that they hold fast to even now.
It’s late winter, but not late enough.
Blossoms crowd the ornamental
cherries, too early. All I know
to do with suffering is ease it.
When the mud settles I’m going to help
clean a few oiled gulls, seeing as God
apparently has more pressing matters
to attend to.
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