Endings.
Time's reach stood still that morning
for me.
With the ocean's return to its normal,
and tide climbing
steep banking beach I saw it.
Lifeless beauty washed ashore.
White body on dusting of pebbled
debris above
littered line where water receded.
After night's storm had tossed itself
quiet, there
between jeweled sea and my feet
one moment of
sad surprise unrolled mortality.
No formal mourning this graceful
still swan-song
silenced by mysterious endings.
Just nature's calm requiem for the
life and death journey
destined for every born creature.
There lies an in-bred affinity with
such submission
to wisdom's purpose as beings
bend to beginnings
then finally breathe their finalé.
Time, that morning stood more
than stiller for me.
-
Author:
Fay Slimm. (
Offline) - Published: May 13th, 2021 01:56
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 52
Offline)
Comments6
I guess it's why we bury or cremate, to do away with the ugliness of death where there is always a scavengers meal.
It's so sad to see the remains of what was once a beautiful being, now broken and still.
Yes the sadness that day overwhelmed my questioning poet's mind and Dusk I shall never forget the beauty that swan had before its demise.
A thoughtful write Fay.
Thanking you Orchi.
if one is to end washed up on a beach like that .. I sincerely hope some fine poet is around to witness and record the moment ..
death is never pretty, but at least in this case, the immortalisation of former beauty process has already begun ...
... Neville
Though a sad subject I smiled at your opening comment Nev and thanking you dearly -- but this poet promises should thou be all washed up she will immmmmediatly give thee lots of stalwart resussssssitation - -- hows zat.........x
Time would have stood still for me as well Fay.
Andy
'there
between jeweled sea and my feet
one moment of
sad surprise unrolled mortality.'
haunting words, that vividly describe
your insightful moment of stark realisation,
a poem speaking to our own suddenness of mortality
reflecting, on the fact that we too, navigate
those slippery paths of fate, between
life's jewelled sea of stormy opportunity
and the sands of sans: that await, with certainty...
(a poignant read, dear Fay
really liked the solemnity of respect for that poor swans life
you imbued in to your write, with perfectly pitched
pacing and flow)
Birds are superior to man... They know when would death appear in their lives... They vanish in search of a place where they can die peacefully.
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