The tidal wave returned to seaBut left behind its memoriesChildren embrace under the starsAre they us or are they ours?

It hurts when I wake up in the morning. But the boy gives me the nasty pill and I feel better. He gives me treats and he doesn’t get mad when I make a mess this time. He takes me out on a walk. He smiles but he smells sad. He doesn’t yell at me when I get excited and...

I did not think much of it then, but I soon learned there would be a term for me: a survivor. It is a heavy word. It implies that more people have died than have lived. That one’s life has grown valuable at the hands of a tragedy.