Empty-handed
by Theresa Abalos
by Theresa Abalos
"I like the ocean," I say
An offhand reply to an offhand question
A lie
I need the ocean – I crave the music
Of silver waves on silver shores,
That tragic, relentless beauty that takes me captive
Every time
The waves grasp my ankles
They reach again and again for the shore
Whose silence scorns them to waltz away
Empty-handed
My feet sink into the sand and I can't follow their steps
I'm too fettered by deceptive cadences
To stop dreaming
They'll come back, though – I know how that waltz goes
I know the sea salt melodies that caress my face,
Washing away the tired hours
But I'll never figure out
The beat that moves our restless feet
As if we'll grasp the shore
- 1:39 PM
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