Sometimes my mind is like a silent sea
and I’m carefully wading,
trespassing on little homes and crevasses,
minute creatures existing, fearful that
my bumbling toes may enter their havens
and crush them unwittingly.
I am not a murderer,
I take heed of all that is around me,
even the swimming thoughts
that cloud this shallow pool of my mind,
I bathe in them;
I allow them to soak in.
Suddenly my puckered twinkling toes are
as creased as the digits of the venerable,
and smiling, I play with the ridges,
wondering at how I became so bloated on the silent thoughts
that while mute, still speak to me.
Because, I know,
I understand that within my silent seascape,
there is a path, though hidden,
which leads me back to the dunes.
I can wade as long as I like, peeking into the water,
splashing like teardrops my sparkling eyes
as I take in the shimmering surface of the sea.
Did I mention my sea is calm?
There are no crashing waves,
only thoughts, thoughts, mulling,
contemplative, arresting, heart-wrenching,
thoughts, thoughts, all the same.
I suddenly realise I don’t wish to escape,
to my pilgrim land of the dunes which will only
forsake me in the end,
drying me out as though parchment in the rich summer’s heat,
the humidity stifling,
I’d rather remain with my feet twiddling in the sea.
Perhaps I can remain here forever,
I could live on, hoping for the shallow
to become awash as the deep,
I could happily reside here,
as long as She doesn’t continue to bloat
the tips of my extremities.
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
All images signed “LMH”
are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock
and all rights reserved.
Image by brisch27 from Pixabay
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