On My Leaving


The cold scolding moon is the sovereign here,
drawing the water away,
baring the old wooden bones of the pier
that hide in the depths of the day

I drink in the mist of the cool oceanside,
and kiss the soft surf with my toes
my footsteps are swallowed by hungry a tide
advancing, retreating in rows

One step deeper, my ankles dissolve,
two, waves welcome my knees
my form meets the ocean with steady resolve
despite the shore’s desperate pleas

I melt as the salt water circles my waist
the scars on my wrists start to burn
the dead sunset beckons with comfortable haste
and the poor dust begs my return

My neck is now part of this body
and old wounds sting there as well
I ask no forgiveness from God, He
condemns me to heaven or hell

My ears break the water, I hear the shore weep
submerged, my eyes gently close
the Ocean has made me a bed for my sleep
her hands softly grasping my toes

One shock, a dull throb, and she fills up my form
this new life shall hold no deceiving
on the sand, the cold people try to stay warm
I wonder if they shall be grieving
This glorious night of my leaving.

  1. No comments yet.
(will not be published)

  1. No trackbacks yet.