I think of you
And the many times
You tried the landing
Dot the shallows
Of what might have been for you
But for me,
I am here
Waterlogged and foreign
Time crawling out of my skin
And abandoning me to gravity
And as I become part of the landscape
I wonder now
What becomes of you?
© H. Hennenburg, 6 July 2019
This poem was originally inspired by a painting I admired while wandering through a summer farm and craft market. The artist, Isabel Gibson, was lovely and had many interesting stories of the coastal and pastoral settings depicted in her paintings. Nature inspires art, art inspires poetry, poetry inspires love, love inspires life…and we are cycled and recycled over and again.
Joyfully linking with Poets United.Copyright protected by Digiprove © 2019 H. Hennenburg
22 thoughts on “Washed Ashore”
This makes me think of the small boat that found its way onto our west coast all the way from Fukishima, after the accident……….wonderful image and poem.
Thank you, Sherry. What that little boat might have seen.
Oh , oh, some really magnificent images here.
“Time crawling out of my skin”
Thank you, kindly, Gillena. Love to you as well!
Thoughts of “what might have been” is one of the most reliable forms of self-torture. We can only hope that time will bring a reliable landing eventually.
Yes, so true, my friend. But now that you make me think about it, maybe they can also be a source for course correction…if we view them with care.
This reminds me of free-falling through grief. Love the metaphors.
Mm, that’s actually a nice image of grief somehow. Falling through it, as opposed to sitting stuck in it. Thanks, Vivian!
Sometimes life with its surroundings gives us hints of how to plan the course ahead .. to sit down and contemplate the choices we make .. and perhaps to set us out for new adventures. Beautiful poem 🙂
Thank you, Sanaa!
I love this little poem with its huge ‘evocation.’ I am partial to such images. My Ann has a couple of ink drawing of boats and she gave me a wonderful oil of a scene of fishermen repairing their rigging.
Thanks, Herb. Must be nice to have that painting to enjoy and ponder.
I love your post script as much as the poem. Cycled and recycled. That is life. Lovely writing.
Myrna, so glad to see you here. Thank you!
Oh, those might-have-beens niggle at us constantly, don’t they? And they are so hard to ignore.
I wonder if they are trying to tell us something. We might not always be able to realize our dreams, but the essential parts of us those dreams represented still need acknowledgement…still need expression in some form. Perhaps those stubborn might-have-beens are just reminding us to pay some loving attention to parts of ourselves that need to live a little more.
From “what might have been” to becoming “part of the landscape” the lines of what if to our inevitability described perfectly. Just if we can change.. Thank you
I like the image you’ve used here; and the poem is intriguing, and beautifully worded.
Thank you, Rosemary!
Love the image of time crawling out of skin!
beautiful poem, H.
this is grief and love and longing. i can feel this poem. my loved who had gone before me, what will she become? but i am still here, waiting my time..
I really like the poem. Seeing the speaker step out of the water, changed and moving forward, wondering about another… puts me in a reflective move. And I love the note, such a fantastic description of the way the whole world and its creatures spins and morphs and grows…
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