Waves and sand, wind and the tide
Sun sets low, burning and sizzling, quenched by the void
Lonely strides, quiescent night a hush, and lull of water
Washing away the history, cleansing the memory.
Lingering ghosts remain come morn
Washed up like flotsam, unrecognizable as experience
Broken shells and rotted kelp, no trace of history.
Buckets, tipped over forming sand fortresses against the raise
washed away crashing waves like ice melt in the sun.
Lovely strides continue forth leaving no prints to recall
Leaving one to wander
What was the point of traveling at all.
ECHOES OF A LOST VOICE
I wish I could tell my younger self not to be afraid. To take in stride all the pain in hopes of brighter days. The rancid stench of witch’s breath and hand raised to do harm were but a trial come to pass, no need for an alarm. The icy chill of sharpened steel pressed firm against your skin by father’s grip, his rage misguided, would noy be your end. An open wound and shining scar left glaring on your thigh would never fade or fail to remind of why you want to die. That pillow where you smother breath is not what you would wish, you cannot escape the way you feel by cutting at your wrist. Drugs will numb but for a time while causing mounds of pain, the folly of that stupor only brings more mental strain. Lose yourself in lovers’ arms, seek acceptance where you will, but whore yourself all that you may, it’s just a jagged pill. Someday soon when all these failures eventually come to pass, you will find a whole new low and drown yourself at last. Through this sufferage, you feel and all enduring hate will bring to light a hidden path, though just a bit too late. Do not fear I say to you, with nothing left to lose. Because my heart is fainting remembering what you went through. | WCP