ticks and tocks and seashells

journey from point A (womb) to point B (tasteful little urn on the mantle)

 

 

Time is the sea -- tumbling blue and gray ahead of me --

I dangle a tentative toe in the froth of its edge --

the water appears to go on forever, but of course,

I know that it does not.

It comes to an end. 

Do we get to choose the sort of end we want:

A quiet and wet tumbling over the edge of the world

      into cloaking and numbing darkness?

Or are we carried by a great, unforgiving tsunami,

      full of the varied shrapnel of our lifetimes,

      bruises and blood, kisses and hugs, love and loss --

      slammed against the detritus

      of some desolate unfamiliar shore? 

I am no longer standing at the sandy beach of the beginning.

I have survived the swells and storms, the dead calms

and the occasional sucking vortex of shock.

Am I closer to the place where there be dragons? 

Will my modest dinghy simply glide in countless little figure eights at the edge?

Have I grown too old to dream?

I know happiness is not a forever state:

it’s like rare pearls we stumble onto once in a while,

and we string them carefully together

to remember how happy felt. 

 

Author's Note

redo -- This has always felt awkward towards the end, so I did a little whacking.

Reviews

[Pryde Foltz]

A fantastically insightful piece. Your metaphors are great.

[annie lee]

Thank you for your review. I will return the favor as soon as possible

[Sami Khalil]

A splendid redo written by an excellent pen...Thank you for sharing all of this...:)

[annie lee]

Thanks so much. I had to really whack this one into little pieces before I could try to put it together again. But that's always a great exercise.

[Sami Khalil]

Understood . You are welcome...:)