Like the Tide

Slapping and stretching her palms on the shore,

She is desperate to reach her old Love again.

Time and Wintertide have pushed her back; drained her.

And she longs recklessly to re-cover her ancient home.

 

The imprint of her love is littered in the limestone, 

In the petrified wood of the Peace River, 

In the red fingers of Dades Gorgem,

Nested on the peak of Parseierspitze.

 

He is so far from her reach.

 

Oh, she can see it!  The salt and life that were abandoned.

Some close as a kiss; others high in the grip of the wind.

But she had to go. 

She was pushed from her bed to rest elsewhere.

 

She collects her strength and winds back,

Then curls the long water into arches.

She advances her heaviness and breaks hard,

Crushing and foaming and clawing into the same old sands.

 

Exhausted, she retreats to try again later…

Later.

When she can bear no more and her heart is sick,

She rages from her depths and storms again against the shore!

 

But that evil shore binds her and shields the high earth.

It is a wall.

Her Love is up there; perched and watching her dance.

And all she has is time.  Sisyphus time.

 

She calls out in the breakers

She calls out on the gulls

She lifts up her agony in the rain and midst.

To quinch him. To remind him. 

 

I am still here!  I am still here!

I cannot come to you like this.

I am bound into the gravity of your feet.

Can you not come to me?

 

And he crumbles slowly;

Trapped himself.

Wanting to be covered in her softness again,

But all he can do is whisper to her in rivers.