The sea is more than foam and see through water. It is memory and it is living.  Although I live quite far away from the sea these days, I carry both its sparkle and its raging turbulence – I have seen all of its moods and when I come back into its presence, I think we recognise each other.  I have travelled by boat on numerous occasions, mainly between Ireland and Wales.  I’ve felt the sea flip my stomach and I have fallen asleep to its quieter rhythms.

‘Lost Summer’ was born from the sight of a neglected boat, sinking into sand. I believed this boat had a story. Somebody needed to tell that story.  I thought about the music of the sea, its ability to bear people, as if they were unborn children.  The sea is transformative, it is also  a home to mythical creatures . . . I found myself imagining a rescue – could the rescued person have some sort of siren power or had the sea punished them, destroyed any former love of adventure?  I will let the poem answer.

Lost Summer

The boat leans in,
the quaint side of shabby,
lulled by sea blaze,
pockmarked sand
drawing it closer.

It started with hope, flared
on the waves, rocked
with young voices, old cares,
everyone looked out, felt
the moves revolve within gut,
plaintive notes throbbed a beat.

I missed one, found you,
a circling arm, pale
with striving for shore.
We hauled you in, our siren catch,
wished legends into your
down-to-earth eyes,
turned you against sea.

It was
the rough,
the slow,
the drift.
You poured out,
thankful for sand.

As for the boat,
it languished,
became an emblem
of lost summer.

K. S. Moore

First published in The Lonely Crowd, 2018

Read about the writing process behind ‘Lost Summer’ and other poems, in this online essay published by The Lonely Crowd.

Photo by wallyg on Foter.com / CC BY-NC-ND