Thursday, 9 August 2012

Poem

I've fretted over whether to publish this one or not, but in the end, I've decided that it's as much me as anything else I've written here. I'm perfectly fine.


Poem

‘Build a castle!’
‘It’s a cake!’
‘It’s a cake for the sea!’

One child stands
‘The sprinkles!’
hands loosen
tiny stones fall

They catch the sun
a glorious shining moment
as they spiral down

Giggles, love, hope.

Beyond this tiny play
The sea.

Placid
Lumbering
Huge
Blue and silver
heaving. Smooth.

She could reach out now
stroke it with fingertips

She could step onto it

It beckons
Shimmering
Sparkling
Enticing

A line of orange buoys;
‘Here is safe.’
‘Here is not.’
‘We will take care of you.’

She could swim out there
She thinks.

All the way to the buoys.

Past them, perhaps.

She wades in.
The soothing cool.
It meets her
rushing, kindly
gently, intimately
into inside her.

Still on, still further.

Stones shift
Feet slip
She suddenly swims

Not ready yet
Panic
Alarm

The water waits
She composes




Steadier now
she swims.
Water falls over her
like a glistening, satin sheet.

She dreams of sleep
of rest
of quiet.

One strong pull.
Two.
Three.

Soon she slows.
She never swam well:
feeble arms
imperfect technique.

She knows
She won’t reach them.
She’ll fall short.

It’s not important.

They can’t keep her safe
for all their claims.

Still she swims
inch by inch
away from the shore.

She can go no further.
She stops.
The orange buoys watch
in bemused silence.

One leg fails
then the other.
Pain in her knees
unbendable.
Pulse rises slightly
Surprise.

One dip first
head submerged
then scrawny arms pull up.
One more breath.
Cold. Watery.
Choking.

Another dip
More pain
A forced breath
Bubbles. Vomit.

Tired melts away
into the cool, salty sting
and that moment
is glorious.

The bright, shining she
Extinguished now.

Her water
Her salt
Her iron
Shared.
Seaweed in her hair.

A laugh, a shout.
She’s returns.
A giant breath.
Salty eyes.
Dry, safe, warm Air.

Cold heart
Shivering lungs
Head exhausted
Spinning, whirling
Words come slow.

The sea steals round the cake.
Children laugh and goad
‘Eat it! Eat it!’

It accepts the sacrifice.

Her dream fades
hidden. quiet. lurking.

Saved for another day.




Pip

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