fair haven


My beach house memories are of the quiet breathing of the sea,
The cacaphony of magpies in the morning as the dawn came up over the beach,

Bright and sharp as a sword,

Night time;

The hovering moon making a silver path over the water.

The song of the sea, like a heartbeat from my infancy,

Calling me.

And when the house was sold, the heartbeat stayed with me,

In dreams of tidal disasters, and numbing waves warmly devouring me.

That hungry voice of the sea.

You are free, you are so free.

Coming back to watch the children scattering on the beach,

The lighthouse pointing to eternity,

The caves of dank weed and storm-torn wings. 

Listening to that voice;

You are free, so free. And one day, you will return to me. 

Now the little ones have heard it too.

Watching my love balancing on the waves,

Standing above the heartless undertow and the exploding surf,

Wrapped in a passionate embrace,

Of cold water, of roiling sand and that pure salt taste,

That taste and that cold that sinks into your bones.

That says: come back to me.

Come home. Come home.


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