It is September, yet
I can still hear the beach.
The sea moves and swells;
it tumbles to the shore,
dusts itself off,
then rushes back towards the sand.
I think this could heal me:
the sound of wind,
the sound of waves,
and being at the right place
at the right time.
At parties I sit quiet and calculate my words
I avoid the eyes of guys and stare at my phone.
After all that hiding,
dissatisfaction feels like heartburn,
crying over a simple email
the lasts build a lump in my throat
last time beaming onstage
signing yearbooks
wearing a stiff blue skirt
One girl’s lanky frame against the dark turf field,
lit up by fluorescent lights
She saunters toward the building
holding another girl’s hand
Comments
The sea IS a healing place. There's something about the gentle crash of waves and the fresh, salty air. You were really able to capture that feeling, in only a few short words.
Thank you! The beach makes me feel at peace, and I wanted to express that feeling. I've been trying to write with meaning while cutting out unnecessary words, and I think this poem reflects that.
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