Ad Limina

When last I stood upon a beach,

I comprehended what it must be like

To live in Limbo.

Bizarrely, there were cars upon the strand

In Ocean Shores: two Jeeps, some SUVs,

A solitary Lexus in the gloom.

My feeling was of dreary, pensive

Waiting – apprehension with no

Promises of anything to break

The pall of silence.

And out among the tomb-like cars,

Our cenotaphs, you wandered on the sand,

Disconsolate, and then ashamed to feel

Disconsolation.

I loved you there, but sorrowed, for

You typified so miserably for me

The iron gray and bruised-blue atmosphere

Of this oppressive outskirt of the ocean.