Washed Away

Along the coastal paths I find myself
 most days simply wandering
leaving a tracery of footprints in the sand that the rolling waves will swell and erase
I am drawn to sun and sea and the endless stretch of sky
the crabs hide from me but I can’t 
I’ve tried
I’m amazed when they scuttle away in fear because I don’t have anything to frighten them with
my bravery 
my fierce has all been boiled away
and I don’t feel enough to scare anything
I keep my eyes turned down and collect driftwood pieces and build childish castles 
near the waters edge
just to watch them topple 
because to do it well and build them to stand against the tide
would be to believe
to invest myself in a tomorrow
I am trying not to depend on
and I can’t find a reason to build something strong
something that will last
something that matters
when all I feel inside is a longing to be washed away with the driftwood castles
and vanish like my footprints along the waters edge…



About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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2 Responses to Washed Away

  1. kamilica2002 says:

    Like this poem…but you to stay building the castle, collecting wooden pieces on the beach, shells, little shiny stones…and pick up that crab who was a bit frightened and runaway from you.

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