Poetry | When I Think About Being Me #1

With a bright and dropping sun high above,

Old-heave waves and skeleton currents

Running through the sand, I leave the beach.

A silky puddled track leads deep inside

An ancient wood; I go towards its wolves

And oaks, blind girls, sighing ash and shadows.

I find a church; the wooden doors are locked.

With slowing steps I shift between the graves.

I drop my head and press my lips together, There’s no drink, no man, no dance

To pull this thing apart. I sit and wait.

Time begins to split and spills across my skin,

The fleshless currents of the beach reappear, The sand, the sighing land and timeless sea, I glimpse again gold sun beyond the trees,

The dreadful track, its eyeless girls, its wolves,

I hear a voice, big void divine, but also me:

‘Great beloved goddess, you are everything you see.’