Friday, September 19, 2025

 1385

Shanklin - July 14


The tide has turned and here beyond the waves

A line of sand lies warming in the sun.

Cool on my feet, it could be the seabed

Full fathom five and far below where fishes

Choose the height or depth at which they swim

Move freely in between, while I am bound

To squat close to the all too solid earth.


I stand amid the waves but my feet drift

And sink as sand dissolves,

Pebbles shifting with the morning tide.


While all above is stable in the breeze

And statue-like I seem to be unmoved

Everything below the water's edge

Drifts out of focus and the clarity

Of air and sun is dissipated, until

All dissolves into a single whole,

Translucent, changing, yet more unified

Than the stark contrasts of the air-born world.


Ever-shifting, always out of reach,

If I sense you, you are gone before

I can pin you down,


And eve now, seventy years on,

You're still elusive and the simple faith

I hoped would come with age

Seems further away than ever - even though

I sought you in the charismatic heights,

Dived into the depths of liturgy,

Walked pilgrimages, sought the shrines of saints -

All helped, but did not last,

For while I knew you lay behind them all

The waters never cleared to let me see

A permanence, a rock on which to stand;

Only the shifting sands which seems to say

Give in, let go, there is no other way.


Brian Hick July 2014

©copyright Sally Hick 19.9.25

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