I wrote ‘The Line’ on a homesick afternoon when Swansea Bay seemed a world away.  I wanted to breathe Swansea sea air, feel Swansea sand shift under my feet, watch those familiar waves stir and hurry and spill and drift.

The thought of lying down on the shoreline came into my head, as if this action could make me a part of the sand and sea, bind me to my beginnings.  Closer study of this thought, in poetry, led me to realise that going back to Swansea and allowing the sensations of the place to envelope me would not be enough. There is too much distance between my past and current self.  And so, I look forward but always remember, wear my memories like a cloak.

The Line

Poetry of the Sea

To lie on the line
between sand and sea
will not be enough,
will not express
my homesick longing
for this one shore.

The imprint of skull
would only be
washed clean,
the next wave
writing music.

I will stand,
damp air, pressing
a kiss, find comfort
in sky-dull colours.

Later, I’ll snowglobe
the memories, shower
in lost rain, know

my own line
is
me then,
me now,
split.

K. S. Moore

 

Photo by trevormarron on Foter.com / CC BY

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