A brief poem about meeting Christ. |
She is in love with the seaside She is right on the edge of a place where no men walk The sun is easy, a wine-colored disk low on the horizon where no men walk Her hair is free It’s tossed, like her heart often she forgets she sits on the edge of where no men walk The breeze is spiritual and the salt-scent mixes with her frustrated smile, making some sort of glossy, magazine perfume smell The clouds change their dance Their colors shift against the sun They pause then give way to brilliance She cries and next cries out Her tears grace the sand She yells and is barely drowned out by the waves She sits at his feet She can’t tell if he loves her or if he’s toying with her heart “Please, I’m begging you begging you! Please let this be real.” She cries on the edge of where no men walk The lights explode across the waters spilling as far as the eye sees The lights scatter like frantic insects in the night The man lifts up her chin with a hand His eyes are too vibrant for her to look so she gazes instead out to the place where no men walk “I am he,” he says “I am the man who went there,” he points “Out to the place where no men walk” “I drowned for you,” he says With a tear, she asks “Aren’t you the one who made water his walkway?” He nods. “Yes, but I still chose to drown for you” -B- |