Sea Foam

We dipped our toes in the ocean
squealing as the waves
crashed against our milk-white shins.

And while laughing
and traipsing over the rocks,
we pretended to push eachother
into the blue-black ocean.

I could see the rays of light
bending as they hit the thin surface
and sliced through the dark,

You lay down on the sand,
watching the grey-bellied clouds
float over us as if on parade.
And I lay beside you,
with your sand-freckled hands
and your hair smelling like salt-water,
oh! beauty has never been more tangible.

I remember,
I was still trying to scoop up
those rays of light in my childish hands
when I realized something was wrong.

So bittersweet and wrong.

The discarded shells and rocks
dug into the undersides of my feet
as I ran towards you.
The wind was pulling me towards the sea,
but I told it I could not go.

And in your jacket and
blue jeans filled with holes,
you tilted your head back to the sky.

You opened your mouth,
and screamed.

And it took all the words right out of me.

While I kept running,
sea foam tugged insistently at my ankles,
but I told it again,
I could not go.

Sweet hazel!
Your eyes were wide open,
as the sky shook and finally cracked open
with a burst of light and
thunder rolled over the land.

Heavy drops of water fell,
and drenched you.
With your mouth open,
it seemed you wanted them to drown you
right there on the beach in November.

It began to rain harder,
pushing me towards the sea,
but I pulled up my hood and yelled,
I cannot go!

By the time I had reached you,
stumbling over driftwood and stepping on rocks
and small pieces glass made smooth by the waves,
you had already vanished.

All the sound was gone from me.

I ran along the shore,
as fast as I could, or faster,
looking for your hand,
for your raven-haired head
floating somewhere above the sea foam.

I opened my mouth
and screamed
as loud as silent as I could for you,
until my throat felt bloody raw
and swollen.

But still,
you were gone.

And beneath the rolling thunder,
I thought I could hear you calling.
And beneath the crackled lightning,
I thought I could hear you calling.
And beneath the percussion of rain against my body,
I thought I could hear you calling.

But nowhere was your
raven haired head
rising and falling and rising with
the blue-black waves tipped with sea foam.

You had warned me once before,
with smile that tasted so bitter,
that one day you would have to go.

I guess I never believed you,
or maybe,
I should have.

And I remembered once before,
you told me
how afraid you were of the ocean.

(inspired by T.S. Elliot's Marina)