A box of sand

I wish I could box my angst like sand
and leave it all covered for a sunny day

to air my troubles, my woes in the light
where I could see them clearly and say

to angst and fear, then, near at hand,
uncovered, unmasked, let’s put you right;

not in the corner, nor hidden from view but
exposed to the sunlight, unboxed and made one

with beach and ocean, the shore, where feet
can print the steps of a man under the sun

now rising in the east and behind me anew
is a vision made whole and not yet complete.