Throwback Saturdays: The Coin

I made this poem a year ago- back when I had so many questions that needed answering. Some of those questions have never been answered. But it is alright. Time has a way of compensating for what one has lost. 

The Coin

The coin thought

That he’s old enough

Circa 1993

Forged by sweat and fire

Once a shiny, spotless piece

But now

Already a dull silver gray

Already grimy at the edges

Already passed through many hands

(Some soft and squeaky clean

Some rough, almost hardened

Some glistening with blood and sweat

Some covered with dry gloves or mittens)

The coin thought

That he’s old enough

Until one day,

A man plucked him from the pocket of his jeans

And threw him into the sea

And down, down, down

He sank

As the sea creatures swam

Totally oblivious to his demise

The coin thought

That he’s old enough

Until he fell into the sea floor

And felt the dusty embrace of the earth.

Until he got covered with its thick softness

And tasted it salty-sweet.

Until he smelled the loamy musk

Which the oceans stole when they were born.

And finally, the coin knew.

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