The Moya View

Walking the Dead Beach

                1
The beach evaporates
into the clouds
and on sands
beyond hourglasses,
I walk—
under a dry
and empty sky,
a blue
that doesn’t exist,
a white
that has
died inside.

The dark
and light
here
are not things.
The beach
is a negative
of souls.

I try to imagine
a life
before the dry,
perhaps
a lover,
someone besides me,
to sleep
in my arms,
that will
slack this thirst

but I can’t
for all I am
is this
godforsaken place,

and walking
alone
far from a dead sea.

2
Further away,
just under the horizon,
I see there is
a ship with black sails
marooned in the sand.

And on the dry
and broken deck
there are dying mermaids
singing and praying
for lighting, rain,
water, a sea
to sleep in
and
swim inside one another.

The answer, as always:
there’s the sun,
there’s the sand
and myself
nowhere to be
seen by them.

3
The dying mermaids’ prayer-song
is a great grieving thing:

“Weave me a gown
from this thin washed blue,
to be
married in
or
buried in
under the water.”




This poem has a companion mirror poem- Walking the Living Beach.

https://themoyaview.com/2023/01/19/walking-the-living-beach/

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One response to “Walking the Dead Beach”

  1. caroline46 Avatar

    Both poems sre very good

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Walking the Living Beach
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