Pose and Proetry love and rants

What A Wave Must Feel Like

The life of a wave


flatness at first, just a slope on a swell, a
grand swell, a leader, aged arms abroad,
carrys her people to shores of remembrance
then a bend in her smoothness, not a crease or a pimple,
just a bunching of skin as the great lady guides us,
upward it seems, or forward at least,
a direction of hope which carries our being
and others i see, ripples and dips,
lightly here and quickly there,
learning the tempo of time
some dance together, while others collide
in hand with my friends we stride in a row,
surf down this mountain with freedom like wind
gaining momentum, and passion, and power
as untimid turbulence bubbles our crest,
a crown of white foam to mark our ascent
wider and broader our thickness prevails
til stretched in the middle, concavity spent
we maintain our height, but increasingly slender
when suddenly smashed is our flank on the left
obliterated blood drops spray to the sky
carelessly cleaved by an ignorant rock
briny gore splatters my sister's remains
we all feel the beach encroaching beneath us
sweeping our legs and sucking us down
the right flank so thin, with arched scoliosis
its own weight the hammer, a brittle collapse
now face-down in shame, our hubris expended
grovelling grit peels the skin from my lip
a transparent, silent exhale ashore