Silence in the sounds of nature,
my footsteps just another element
lost in the whoosh of waves
on this, my lone companion,
a deserted beach not so deserted.
Seclusion amidst the raw edge of nature,
a hundred gulls the voice in my ears.
Removed from myself in this isolation,
the silent voice of my thoughts
surrounds me, a greater force
of freedom craved, achieved.
Ever-changing, from tranquil to wrathful,
from granite gray to aqua, this beach,
this enigma, is as uncharted as my life,
never knowing what lies beyond the horizon.
Here, I am myself,
unquestioned, unchallenged
as I think, consider, compose.
Inspired by and distilled from “My Secret Beach,” by Keith Hillman, at Keith’s Ramblings. Thank you to Keith for graciously allowing me to post this poem.
Please visit the original, here.
Who is to say one’s grief
is greater than that of another?
Never really gone,
all exist in all they touch,
yet some are touched
in ways that cannot be equaled.
Who is to measure a loss,
if not the one whose heart
cannot find a way to fill a space
that already holds something
that can no longer be touched?
One who sees the darkness
that would consume
the light that fills that space.
One who lives with that grief.