"The only thing I know for certain now
& have learnt in forty-four long short years /
Is that sea water is only salty
from all these mermaid tears."
(Brent Harpur, 11/11/2012.)
I awake one morning, but I have not awoke.
For I am still in dream. But I thought I was awake.
In my dream, I sit up in my tiny bed, alone. I reach for familiar, cool shiver & stain of silver on skin. But it is not there.
My fingers linger for a moment on hairless chest,
my quiet heart stirs underneath fingertips.
For as long as I can remember now,
her smile has been the last thing I think of before
I fall into dream. And the first thing I think of
when I awake. This morning, there is something
I hear that worries me, more than a little...
It is not what I can hear,
but an absence of what I usually hear.
I cannot hear the familiar hiss and roar of the sea
outside my cabin.
Rubbing sleep from my eyes, pulling clothes on aching bones,
I Ieave my cabin to visit the sea.
But the sea has gone.
The rocks, shore, sand, (& now somewhat redundant looking) man-made jetty and lighthouse are all still there.
But for as far as my eyes can see,
all of the blue green water, all of the sea,
The fish have gone too, and the birds.
All except a lonely gull, its loud cry echoing across a beach that now resembles more of a desert.
Here & there, in the sand
are a few stranded starfish, and the odd blanket of seaweed.
And an occasional deserted rowboat and empty net.
All is quiet.
I sit down in the warm sand, feel the sun's warm caress on my forehead. I close my eyes, just for a moment...
I recall the mermaid's first kiss.
I remember her taking me by sweet surprise!
Breathing life into me!!
I remember not wanting to break contact,
and as she tried to gently move away,
my following her;
our lips staying together,
our mouths & tongues becoming one,
I felt her kiss in my
entire body & being.
I could not feel my legs. I leant into her,
so as not to fall over.
I felt our souls touching.
I open my eyes,
but the sea has still gone.
(to be continued...)
(c) Brent M Harpur, 2012.