Bending Seagrasses

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Corkscrewing, a wisp of pale smoke rises into the air;
hold me,
if one day I happen to pass through the colonnades of your mindβ€”
war wears disquiet like a favorite black dress,
the shade of her lips urging sea grasses bend double
in silence.

Imagine a shore that bears unrest,
a child’s laugh without mirth and humor;

one by one
the soldiers have laid their lives, embraced the gravel,
the unspoken,
the very aspects of dwelling and deathβ€”
I get tired of people trying to tell me what ache is, waves white
crashing to and fro,
I won’t describe what it feels like only that
a betrothed hasn’t slept a wink for many nights; whispers, erupting
inside the soft cartilage structure of ear.
If, at any moment in time you too can relate,
meet me,
the moth grey sky recounts the roseate hue of sand; the roseate hue
of sand.
Do we ever forget?

 

 

 

Photo credits: “Bending Seagrasses,” by Laurel Daniel, oil 40×30

Bjorn hosts at dVerse and discusses the long history of war
poetry
that dates back to Homer. Come join us! πŸ’

Posted for Poetics: War Poetry @ dVerse Poets Pub

40 Replies to “Bending Seagrasses”

  1. Oh, you really capture the memories of war… even on the most beautiful shores in the world you can be sure that somewhere in the sand a soldier has bled.

  2. Reading your poem is like looking at old black and white pictures of the Second World War, Sanaa. I love the lines β€˜war wears disquiet like a favorite black dress’ and β€˜I get tired of people trying to tell me what ache is, waves white / crashing to and fro’. It’s painful to think how many people died or were washed up on the beaches.

  3. Some chilling lines – “a child’s laugh without mirth and humor”
    The painting does bring up all the right emotions with the words, there is that indescribable tension, well written! πŸ’―

  4. I cannot begin to articulate how this poem has impacted me … the scars I carry, the scars my former husband and father of my children carries … Vietnam did us in.

  5. Sanaa,

    Oof – this was a punch in the gut. You blew the prompt out of the water.

    the roseate hue of sand; the roseate hue
    of sand.
    Do we ever forget?

    Sadly… yes… I think we do ~ all too quickly.

    Yours,
    David

  6. beautiful incantatory ending, the blood that tinges every shore:

    the roseate hue of sand; the roseate hue
    of sand.
    Do we ever forget?

    Hopefully never, although we might want to.

  7. Very moving, Sanaa! War leaves so many scars–memories of loved ones and thoughts of what might have been. The land and people both crying.

    “Imagine a shore that bears unrest,
    a child’s laugh without mirth and humor;”

  8. The photographic image is haunting in its simplicy and emptiness…only the scene, no people “living” seen.
    Your imagery within the poem is beautifully the same….these words especially struck me: “I get tired of people trying to tell me what ache is,”

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