Seaward Sign

You left and I followed the tide; sank numb and weak limbed, and allowed it to take me. Now I float with the current. I’m like jetsam, my dreams surfacing like ripples, before waves that bring memories of the other place, of you, crashing down around me.

We used to sit on the dappled sand, you and I, our toes and elbows sinking downward, and talk of belonging to one another. Eternal. Forever. How naïve I was to the true meaning of our words. I wanted you absolute, without end. I smothered you with jealously, and formed rock pools to trap your heart.

It’s summer now, so you’ve arrived in surfer’s clothes; longhaired, tanned, and muscular, breathing the sun’s rays like a seaward sign. If I'm careful, you won’t see me. But I know you’re still looking, and waiting.

You’ve brought her with you, the one you try to think of now. You’ll show her the horizon and passing ships, distant trawlers bringing in their catch. You’ll watch her face with eagerness, hoping to catch a glimpse of what could have been. You might tell her today; beg her forgiveness.

It’s funny how you fail to notice my mother’s true intent, as she pulls you towards the breaking waves; the knife my father used to gut the catch held rigid in one hand.

We will be together again, soon, you and I.

Story by:

Ellie Garratt

ellie@littlewanda.eclipse.co.uk

submitted at 2:07pm

4 January 2011

Ellie Garratt's web:

www.elliegarratt.blogspot.com