Alongside the glitter of the sand
where tiny quartzes sparkle
Discontent rides strong
No hiding, it flaunts openly under the sun
As much on display as bikini clad bottoms.
As if this day which should be enough
is wasting, watching and waiting for comeuppance.
Today I cannot stop the tide of shoulds
with their follow-on words be full, gratitude
As if beauty could do a job beyond just being.
Come on rippling water invade the sand,
drop weed, slip tide higher on the beach
take this warm skin, see the air between sea and sky
between colors, green and black and gold.
You don’t tell me of joy and life’s becoming.
Not happening here.
Today I can’t forget the where
There where children have been caged
There where the ill despair and then enraged
Find themselves jailed by bars or poverty.
Sometimes I think I wait with glee
for sea to rise and take this hedonistic summer joy,
drown it with my deep despairing helplessness.
So in some future now unthought
Creatures will talk of the mythic beings.
The Beachers who lie in dark sand hollows
Watered graves unmarked by quartz or spark of life
Once walked as if they owned the rights.
They chose forgetting, entitlement
Forgot to rise for shame of blames I am remembering.