Where are you
I long to be part of a couple
Everbody seems to walk in pairs
So many years I've been waitig for you
I want to be kissed when I purse my lips
[Mar. 30th, 2018 02:40:32 PM]
I received my first comment on this entry and I'm thrilled:
Somebody (hidden during voting) understood the meaning of my entry and had the same thoughts about it. Thank you, unknown voter! I'm already looking forward to get to know who created this poem
Ahhh, it was Nikki nam - thanks a lot!
Six months after the sea froze,
We look for soul mates,
When most had retreated inland, away from the shore,
Couched in the cities and hills,
The sea became our altar.
A point of pilgrimage.
Some of us dug with small metal spades, and forks,
Looted from garden centres,
Cracking through the brittle toffee shell to deposit our offerings.
Small plastic toys. Redundant remote controls.
Hanks of hair. Paper.
Some of us preferred to dig with our fingers,
Opening up old wounds and lacerations, split and broken nails.
The old blood dried glove-like on our knuckles as we hacked at the ground.
Trying to find a small way into our past.
So we may appease the future.
We avoided the larger, open beaches where
Huge torch lit congregations gather before the wave,
Chanting and throwing themselves
Repeatedly at the wall,
Only to fall, pleading and bloody at its base.
Instead we cling to the small places,
The coves and bays, now nameless,
To kneel and weep and bury.