Sweeping sands carved, sculpted and shaped. Seasons captured in undulating mounds rolling forever into the horizon. Mirroring the waves they confront. Sharp grassy peaks and blown out bays, hollows and hideaways; accenting changes forever in flux. Concrete boxes are old war scars. And incinerated wooded breaks; sea blown victims. A line of weed and carcasses; rejects of the waters, a line of dead between land and sea. The body lay hidden covered by a sandy shawl. My shoes went in and then legs, buckling. The rancid air escaped and days old sand, sea and decay blew out over the new. Past the crest is a pitted hard plain of heather. Hundreds of flowers blues, bright whites and yellows and trees take root. Hanging on by fragile tender tendrils. As Over this crest lives are re-beginning. Until the waters next overspill and like the lost body in the sands, she reclaims what’s her’s.
As featured in NECRO MAGAZINE #1 ‘Death Issue’ – Spring 2020
