POEM: A Walk in the Dunes by John Bowie

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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,
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.
Over this crest
lives are re-beginning.
Until the waters next overspill
like the lost body in the sands,
she reclaims
what’s her’s.

As featured in NECRO MAGAZINE #1 ‘Death Issue’ – Spring 2020

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