Black Tides

Photo by Taco van der Werf | www.tacovanderwerf.com

Have you ever thought

about the dilemma

of the sandy shore?

Pristine and smooth,

and honest, and open

to the deep blue skies,

to the cry of sea birds,

haven for lost seamen

and home of

buried treasure-

disappearing inch by

excruciating inch

under the salty foam

as the tide comes in,

brackish

seawater

taking into its depths

diamond grains

of fine white sand,

veiling away the open blue skies

and muffling

the cry of the seabirds

and the stories that

lie in the clouds and the stars,

inch by

excruciating inch

a black night crawling higher

and higher

up the pristine facade of

my generous shore,

until it cannot hold

its short breath

and splutters and coughs

through lungfuls of water

until-

wait-

the tide is slipping back

and there is a star

or two

and,

it breathes in one

terrified, stunted, gulp of air

and then another,

half paralysed

in wait of the next

incoming blackness,

the next inevitable pull

of the moon,

the next decreed drowning,

the next rising

of the tide.

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2 thoughts on “Black Tides

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