Across The
Sands
From the dark, deserted car park
A thin light, just after dawn
As near as I could get
My boots in powdered sinking sand
Over the windswept dunes
The scratchy marram on my legs
Then scrambling along the bank
To drop down into the sweeping bay
Cradled among the circling coastal cliffs
And hear the strong sea shouting, roaring
Its white rollers whipped up in the distance
Competing with the howling, growling wind
Which whips and whistles
Blustering bursts of rain in flurries
The soaking wetness coming sideways
Now tramping unsteadily across the shingle
Crunching pebbles under darkling skies
The clouds boiling and scudding
Before venturing out onto the flatness
Of the damp and sucking sand
For the final steps to reach him
To stand and stare
His hugeness and his stranded shape
Mountain size
Black, grey, blubbery
A clouded eye
An open mouth
Serried sets of teeth
A twisted tail
A salty stench of decomposition
His rotting flesh a temptation
To the circling, screaming gulls
The persistent crashing of the waves
An ebbing tide that stretches up the beach
Whose rippling fingers fail to reach him
Time after time, losing strength and distance
Whereas I can simply stand here
Stretch and touch him
Feel his dead, swollen body
My fingers on his flesh
A gentle gesture
Whilst I say the only word I can think of:
Sorry
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