I dwelt by the ocean, once

Etching histories along the bone-white shore

tracing with lines in the sand

the chronicles of our revolution,

Comforted by the rhythm

and the roar of the tide.

I remember her face

So pale and still, never again to smile

when the moon’s light fell,

then stopped

cold as silver upon the shore.

There it flickered, trembling

on a fragile thread of remembrance

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waiting for my hand to pluck

from the endless nothingness

little pieces of

an unchanging stillness,

as time distorts the past,

borne away by the surge.

The thought of her begins to fade

her voice,

the feel of her hand in mine,

the taste of her lips,

even the dreams of her

are vanishing

into the dark.

In defiance,

I wrote her name in the sand,

then watched

as the waves

washed my memories away.