in memoriam et in spe

Because I thought that words
were illuminations of deeper pain
searing like sunlight on sun-weary eyes,
ache of blood on white sand—

the frenzy of a moment which,
for all our trying,
refuses to end—

and afterward
as we mourn on the gray beach
beside the monotony of waves.


IMG_0951 Because I hoped that
could speak louder than

a scarlet brand glimmering on my forehead
to chide this one,
living one,
discipline its laughter—

as one
who dares to leap against the sea
because there’s a sunset
on the waves.


I learned that words
are only words—


inky smudges against
white chalk sand,
syllables of wind over water,
scribbling of leaves blown across sand—


and that’s enough.


3 thoughts on “solace

  1. Your words imprint themselves forever on my soul. Thank you for sharing your words with us. How beautiful.

  2. Pingback: of story and solace « The Paradoxes of Mr. Pond

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