Sea Ebbs

The sea ebbs within my thoughts tonight,
churning white caps of foam, salty and rich.
The death of May surfs in under a winking moon's glow.
With the death is a memory of sea birds flying;
pelicans, terns, seagulls and herons gliding on air.
Feathers on the same bird, he and I never were.
Though we loved the sea and the dangerous beauty she bred.
It is the end of May and the sea calls me,
urging me to bathe in her deep waters,
to sit on a rock, combing my hair with broken shells,
sing a mournful melody and lure ships to the rocks.
I am fearful of the sea;
afraid that I will be the one lured by her mournful songs
to crash amongst the jagged rocks and perish inside a memory.

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I wrote this poem May 29. The inspiration behind it is a mixture of memories. I'm amazed at some of the replies it got in the Yahell Y-groups. This is one of the few poems that has a story behind it. I thought I would share it, since it's been on my mind last week.

My ex-fiance, Charles's birthday was May 29, which usually coincides with Memorial Day weekend. We were together from Feb. 1989 until Jan. 1995. The reasons why we didn't work out really don't matter now. In fact, I rarely think of him, except on Memorial Day weekend. Surprisingly hardly any of my poems are about him. I moved on years ago. He is a liar, a cheater and a mamma's boy. This year he's 43.

The last 3 or so years that we were together, he lived at Carolina Beach, NC in an oceanfront condo. It had a very nice 2nd floor view to the beach. About three condo's down was the pavilion, which had shops, I spent many early afternoon's windowshopping as I ate ice cream that dripped over my fingers.

The beach was always so beautiful, even during a storm. I drove almost 2 hours to see him every weekend. On Sunday mornings, I would wake up early, grab a blanket and a cup of coffee to watch the sun rise. What a sight! The sky would be a pale butter color, then a peach color, a bright white and finally a pale blue. Each color would reflect on the ocean's surface, sparkling like jewels. The shrimp boats would be out with their nets in the water, and dolphins would swim behind them, as birds flocked overhead. Sometimes I would see people walking or jogging along the strand. I found peace of mind as I watched these sights alone, while Charles snored away.

From late spring until late fall, I would go out to the ocean at around 8, after the sun was up in the sky warming the air. In a lounge chaise, I would read or have my binoculars out, watching the ocean for signs of dolphin, whales or sharks. Yes, I saw each on several occasions. Or I would have my 'bird' book out, reading about the sea fowl that stuck together in flocks, taunting the tourist. Charles usually swam or played volley ball with some of the other locals who lived in his condo. I usually stayed out on the beach until noon. I would gather my things up, go inside and take a nap or make lunch, sometimes sit on the balcony and watch the antics on the beach or go get ice cream at the pavilion. Then at around 3, I would go back out to the ocean and stay on the beach until 8 pm. I loved the area and for a while believed I would one day live there.

But life doesn't go as planned.

When I think of my years with Charles, the beach comes to mind. We both loved it so dearly. I painted loads of oceanic scenes--dolphin, lighthouses, crashing surfs... He had all of them until he gave them to his mother because of a girlfriend who was jealous of his mementos of me.

That's where the poem came from...the lingering memories of the sea and Charles.