back there, lights must have dimmed
to sorrow –
have you, too?
i am okay – all is as blue as it can be
quenching the brown of my eyes,
i love the red-white lighthouse,
bereft of tourists, amid the green,
i come here often
to find the pain of my solace,
of one kind – the other kind
is left with you –
sweet salt fumes linger on my lips,
the sea looks deep like loss, grains
of sand end up everywhere, like
the thought of you,
i am holding reins over
the beach or i will drown,
and building castles, and collecting
conch shells, and stark-white pebbles,
i will gather some for you, too.
For With Real Toads’ At the Seaside Challenge. The last sea I encountered was ruined by the urban mess of a metropolitan. That is not what I wrote about.
I instead remember the seas of Port Blair (2013) as I go about it – I went up that lighthouse on an island nearby only once and still, it left an impression on me. I was on my own, but for the blue expanse ahead and the green on all other sides. The poem is fictional but that memory stirs these emotions in me – the palate of my thoughts turn to blue, grey and blood. Otherwise, I have no recollection of having written a postcard or a letter of this kind. What I had to write stayed within, brown and forlorn like my skin, not turned into the coherency of lines. If it were, it would have been something like this. And as fiction goes, it is never completely so. *winks*
*Also linking it up with Poetry Pantry at PU.
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