there is a tide
Tide at the neap, the least divide
Between the full and emptied tide
Scoring the shore, the sand retraced,
With scars the larger sea erased
But if we, tired, fail beside
The pale-tipped waves our bow has tried
No current can our bearings shake
Or breach the furrow of our wake.
Note to Furrow: This poem is not about you. Sorry, it just isn't. Really.
8 comments:
very nice... i keep rereading and finding more and more...
ditto.. it rises and falls like the tide, it's internal structure that is. It makes me wonder what scars would be revealed on me at neap tides.. those times when I am at my lowest. No wait, I know the answer to that.
It's simply brilliant! As someone who has written poetry extensively and studied it (Eng. Lit was my minor in college), I feel qualified to make this statement. :-)
The cadence is fantastic, especially given the characteristic of the explicit subject. What's especially impressive is that there is nothing trite about the poem despite the fact that you capture (what I like to think of as) a universal experience. And it's haunting yet a bit comforting as well - but perhaps because the ocean has a similar impact on my emotional state.
The description of the sand as being scarred is probably my very favorite idea. To think of our IF/loss experiences in terms of sand..that the tangible and most present parts are fleeting and very quickly and periodically change shape...is so clever. I honestly expect to think of my pain, my psyche damaged by the tidal fluctuations that make up my IF journey, forever in this way.
You are incredibly talented, my friend! Thanks from the bottom of my heart for sharing!
XOXO
Thank you for sharing this beautiful poem.
One of my favorite surprises is when I come across language that I just fall into, and admire. What lovely writing.
Pam
How sneaky of you to put that at the end just to make me read the whole thing. You know I read every post of yours with the assumption that it's somehow about me.
Honestly, though, that's wonderful. The rhythm is perfect, without seeming contrived. I love the caesurae in line 5.
Wow. I feel the tide, I see the sand scars, I smell the sea.
Powerful.
Lovely. So lovely. Talented, you.
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