Littoral

I am none the wiser to how high the wisp of white cloud is

why I can’t touch it, why I can’t scrape it, why I can’t enter it with all my heart and soul

how far away it is from the blue sky

where it goes after I touch it wearily.

And I cannot conceive of the feeling.

I cannot conceive the sensation.

Of its softness, of its lightness

Whether I could twist it round my hand and grab it out the sky,

make it mine

Or whether I am predisposed to an eternity of staring up at blue,

at grey, at white, at cloud, at sky,

at hope, at bliss, at fear, at worry

And whether, instead of me looking up at the sky, at the cloud,

it’s the sky and the cloud looking down at me,

mocking, wandering, pointing

Or whether I am so small and minute and minuscule and tiny in the scheme of things,

I am merely a dot, a speck.

With my incessant quest for hope to look up and

watch the sky

and watch the cloud and breathe and feel and, in all my being,

feel like I am at one with the sky, whether this is, at best, just a waste, a fledgling dream that never was.

In this case of a singularity of reflected gold on black tarmac

In this case of sharp bright sunshine stabbing into my eyes like needles

And in this case of a clear and sudden awakening, like thunder

There was, at once, presence and surprise

Eagerly awaiting the opportunity of morning

And a shadow cast into the pool, thrown with abandonment

With no cry of remorse, no cry of shame

Battening down the hatches to release myself under shadows of slumber

Facing the cry of one demon after another, still and splendid

With the promise of sunshine, of sporadic white billowy cloud

And the landing of the plane with release, with drama, with fortitude

Ash and gray, dusty, billowy, no longer

And the slow dawn of autumn

And a slow cold undertone of sleep and winter.

I think the phrase is “whirling dirt-rish feverishly infecting every cell of my brain and my mind and my being.

Round and round, ever cyclical. Faster and faster, sometimes slower and slower but always there

When I can’t see it, I can’t view it in any kind of way. I can’t speak to it but I know it exists

I can’t speak to it but it speaks to me. It speaks to me in rhythms and ghostly memories of long-forgotten places and times and beings

It speaks to me in great nuance of ancestors and family that make believe of childhood memory

But this communication is one way only

I kind of implore it to stop, to improve, to paint good pictures in bright pastel colors, yellow

I’m merely a body for it to pass on memories, times, places, and dates I no longer recall

And I am just a body for it to infect with its negativity, its reminders of mistakes past, present, and future

It’s not a ghost or shard or remnant. It is ever-present. It is always and will be always

I don’t own it yet it is mine and I am its

It’s neither welcome nor unwelcome but within the shell of me and my body and my being and my mind it is ever present

When every single speck of light has been extinguished

The last diamond, untangling itself in the sky against black, has diminished to nothing

And all that’s left is the sound of a lowly wave. Black ocean wave on stone on rock

And just the sensation of my pulse running through my body

Tiny, a tiny remnant of thoughts and memories of goals and ambitions

All reduced to just particles, to just memories, to sound waves, to parts of the universe we no longer see

And yet still at night I hear the passing of ships

I hear overhead, above grey clouds, the clattering of jets

I wondered to myself

Was I mistaken all along?

I had a feeling [have]

That my feelings, thoughts

are expendible

cheap

a low value, grey commodity

I have a feeling [had]

That I encompass uncommon decay and restlesness

and all-seeing codes for spiralling down

into nothing

I had a thought [have]

that all may not be well

that the blue sky outside

is just a facade

I have a thought [had]

that when the wind does blow

there may be a tear[s]

shed.

I look down

feet, slow, falter, then fast

start: view of concrete, pavement, grey

streetlight reflection

brief reflection of my, in movement, in stillframe

cut to earth, barefoot, scorched, tired

pan out,

sand, beach perhaps

at sunrise

we stayed up just for this

panoramic photo, took twice just in case

footsteps

holding on to each other

sun rises, time to go

time to move on, age

I tried zooming out to space, so far out in the universe

that I could see us, a moment or two in time

Grey sky behind me but smiling

How did I end up so far away

Two gems linked together in an embrace

just a sketch

just an idealistic view of future

romance gone wrong

Then zoom back in and

where are you

where am I

I’m looking down at footsteps now but they

are

so

heavy

drawnout

lethargic

walking away from sunrise+sunset like

Is this it?

Is this

all

there

is

“The bottom dropped out of my world” you said

I nodded, it had

dropped out

of

mine too

In my whirlwind endeavour I tried to

understand

be absorbed by it

“I’m so proud of you” you said

I nodded but

but

I thought of all the reasons why you shouldn’t

yes but

yes but

I wish I had said

I am so proud of you

was so proud

still am so proud

I wish I had said

how lucky I was to be with you nearly all the way

and how guilty I felt for not holding you at the end

even though

even though

I know you probably didn’t want me there

And all that fog, that sharp grip of cold as I ran up to you

it wasn’t mine

nor yours

I know I have to stop wishing

wishing I’d said

wishing I’d done

wishing I’d held

wishing I’d asked

A wish won’t change

it won’t bring you back

And I can catch myself

stood on the shore

looking out to sea

all that infinity

I wish I could bend time, distort it

zoom out so much, so many lightyears out

that I would see you alive still

happy

healthy

But I’d be so so far away

millions of lightyears

just an observer

late in the universe

So I have to just remind myself

you were

you had happiness

I don’t need to wish for that to happen

And now, older, I feel so far away

from you, from who I was

and I wonder if you’re observing me from afar

pinprick star, glimmer of chrome in the sky

Enveloping me, sky wrapping round me in black, blue, glimmer

saying

it will be alright

I’m proud of you

I was proud of you

I’m proud of who you have become

Then I look at your photo

and, even though it’s a lifetime away

it reminds me

(as I need it sometimes)

you had tons of happiness

you had climbs, summits

you too looked at the sky, the clouds

and I wonder as the earth spins

if I’m in the same space you once were

And I wonder when I open books you once touched

if your DNA is on it

I opened a book once, receipt from an airport shop you bought it from

suddenly time folds in and for that moment I’m there with you

transient

And then I think

we’re all transient

this moment is transient

and yet

just yet

maybe

just maybe

love isn’t

pride isn’t

legacy isn’t.

One millimetre

One mile

One million depths to sink into, clamber down, be

absorbed by

Up above – normality, walking, shoe taps on concrete

murmured busy voices torched by the sun beat

Here I sink further further

past the grass

past the mud

past the fouundations

past the tunnels

no murmurs now

no muffled talking of days and nights and plans and who knows what

Silence now.

Deadening silence.

And dark.

Looking for something in the shadows, but there are no shadows

no echoes

no heartbeat sounds

no embers

And if I miss the surface

can I zoom back

hyper speed

guided by sound, noise, bustle, grey community

by starlight by hope by shimmer

by glimmers of future, echoes of past

Can I

can I reclaim light, soul, purpose

or does the fall of night nullify everything I stand for

does it punish the dream of one million shades and hues

Looking out my childhood window

or at least a fragmented fake version of it my mind has rebuilt from memories

I’m inclined to see grass lawn, raindrops on window

urge to be alone, safe, control

I don’t even know if these are memories now

maybe they’re just a concatenation of films, music, poems, memories, optinions

So I’m up here again, breathing this warm dry air

opening boxes that just catapult me, rabbit holing

thinking about what you thought, felt, dreamed about, aspired to be

wishing I’d asked you all that whilst I still had time

all the things now I see with the lens of being older, a parent

I’d give anything just to converse with you

connect with you in a different way

but the truth is I can’t

and as much as I stare from windows, open boxes of letters

flick through photo albums

touch the things you touch

go where you went

I can’t change it.

It might be that choking grey dust where I see you running around

point to point

without any point

and all I can do is look down at you

Standing here tapping my feet

waiting for time, waiting for

what?

I just need to hear that welcome whine of the next train

pulling in

with its promises of

adventure

space

excitement

I need its promise to carry me

carry me

away

away

Picking up speed, faster and faster

not going home

not going away

somewhere inbetween

somewhere no-one can touch me

En-route

delayed