The Lapping Tide
This is nourishing, redemptive; we become less alone inside.
-David Foster Wallace
Walking through a delirium,
I was tired.
The sand felt like purgatory,
A rising incline into a forever
That my mind numbed against.
I was awash of intentions, thought, even interest.
I had, in short, nothing left.
Then the pillars came into view.
As if begging for a story, a reason for being,
I was pulled, staggeringly, as if reeled from a
Fishing line to those salted gray walls,
The shards of church windows poking out of weathered frames.
What is that felt echo? St. Ignatius? The Archange? Michael? My brother?
I am so empty.
I sat down on the stone to rest the non-feeling.
The tide lapping into my mind.
I wanted none of it.
But there it was, anyway.
Persistent. Maddening. Life-giving.
*Matt Caliri
*The Church By The Ocean
*9/29/11
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
