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

Comments

  1. Bjorn Rudberg says:

    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.

    1. Sanaa says:

      Thank you so much, Bjorn πŸ™‚ so glad you liked it πŸ’„β€οΈ

      (and thank you for the glorious prompt)

  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.

    1. Sanaa says:

      Thank you so much, my dearest Kim πŸ˜€ so glad the poem resonated with you πŸ’„β€οΈ

  3. msjadeli says:

    This line stands out for me, “I get tired of people trying to tell me what ache is” as each defines and experiences war in their own way.

    1. Sanaa says:

      Thank you so much, Lisa πŸ™‚ so good to see you πŸ’„β€οΈ

  4. Ingrid says:

    Such a broad sweep of a poem Sanaa, which hits like a wave of war-torn grief on a beach where a war widow mourns. Magnificent!

    1. Sanaa says:

      Thank you so much, Ingrid πŸ˜€ so glad the poem resonated with you πŸ’„β€οΈ

  5. rob kistner says:

    One never forgets Sanaa, ever!

    1. Sanaa says:

      Yes.

  6. 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’―

    1. Sanaa says:

      Thank you so much, Tricia πŸ˜€ so glad you liked it πŸ’„β€οΈ

  7. Helen Dehner says:

    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.

    1. Sanaa says:

      I am so deeply sorry to hear that, Helen.

  8. A beautiful rendition of the sins of war Sanaa, related to the beauty of the sea.

    Hank

    1. Sanaa says:

      Thank you so much, Hank πŸ™‚ so glad you enjoyed it πŸ’„β€οΈ

  9. It evokes my favorite war poem, Amy Lowell’s Patterns. Very much the same feeling of frivolous reference to hide from deep hurt.

    1. Sanaa says:

      Thank you so much, Xan πŸ™‚ so glad the poem resonated with you πŸ’„β€οΈ

  10. Roslyn Ross says:

    beautiful

    1. Sanaa says:

      ❀️❀️❀️

  11. Tzvi Fievel says:

    A resonant ending. Reminds me of the persistent echo of trauma.

    1. Sanaa says:

      Thank you so much, Tzvi πŸ™‚ so good to see you πŸ’„β€οΈ

  12. The agony of war and loss so brilliantly reflected in your words Sanaa. This was breathtakingly beautiful and heartbreaking 😒❀️

    1. Sanaa says:

      Thank you so much, Christine πŸ™‚ so glad the poem resonated with you πŸ’„β€οΈ

  13. 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

    1. Sanaa says:

      Thank you so much, David πŸ™‚ so glad you liked it πŸ’„β€οΈ

  14. Kerfe says:

    The memory of war is long, too, too long.

    1. Sanaa says:

      Yes.

  15. Lona Gynt says:

    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.

    1. Sanaa says:

      Thank you so much, Lona πŸ™‚ so glad the poem spoke to you πŸ’„β€οΈ

  16. 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;”

    1. Sanaa says:

      Thank you so much, Merril πŸ˜€ so glad the poem resonated with you πŸ’„β€οΈ

  17. Mary Hood says:

    Beautiful, evocative and oh so true Saana. No one can tell you what your pain feels like.

    1. Sanaa says:

      Thank you so much, Mary πŸ™‚ so good to see you πŸ’„β€οΈ

  18. calmkate says:

    a masterful use of words and analogies to mourn the distress war causes

    1. Sanaa says:

      ❀️❀️❀️

  19. lillian says:

    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,”

    1. Sanaa says:

      Thank you so much, Lillian πŸ™‚ so glad you liked it πŸ’„β€οΈ

  20. Sara McNulty says:

    “The roseate hue of sand. Do we ever forget?”

    This is haunting and chilling.

    1. Sanaa says:

      Thank you so much, Sara πŸ˜€ so glad the poem resonated with you πŸ’„β€οΈ

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