Sea Treasures

A Poem By Hannah D. // 2/18/2014

Wet sand under bare toes
(Led by a path of moonlight
Reflected over the water)
With the tremulous cadence of the waves
Echoing, echoing
Between the cliffs that guard the bay
On either side -

All were seen at twelve o'clock
By a girl meandering by the bay,
Along the shore that lines the bay,
When the sands stretch long and the tide is out.

The first thing she noticed was the sand
Oozing beneath her feet.
She could feel the weight of a thousand years
Of waves that roll relentlessly
To the tug of the moon's white beams;
How over and over, being rolled and swept,
They were cowed to velvety, sinking stuff
That refused to be grasped by the hand.

Just from her foot as she steps again,
After rinsing a hand in lapping foam,
A smooth fragment of a mollusc shell
Colored pink and white
(A white purer than a thousand doves
Pinked to a blush's hue) -
It was fragile in her hands. As she
Turned it over, it snapped.
At once she tossed it aside. "What use," she spoke,
"Is in a thing of beauty, too delicate
For the waves of its life?"

A few steps more, and she stoops to look
At a crab's claw, scarred and severed
From any other piece of what it was.
Refusing to touch it, she rolled it with a stick
To inspect this once impermeable weapon.
"It must have been caught
In the tide,"
She thought aloud,
"Where it was without defense;
Without the protection of cold, deep, silent seas,
It was left to the mercy of the gulls."

A sand dollar. Is the tide
Already coming back in?
For it is not sun-baked white:
It is still clothed thick in a soft brown fur,
So she tosses it back to its glorious home
Where it fights the waves, and more beside,
Who would strip the living from the shell.
Certainly, it is witness to a swirling
Undersea city, but it can't anchor down for long.

Farther along, being pushed up from the water,
Lies a foot-long slab of wood.
Black, smooth, it could tell a thousand tales
Of where the current had taken it -
The current would take it again. Round and round
It would go, until completely worn to dust.

There is a feather, caught in the sand.
Well, at least once it was white
And it aided an intrepid bird in its flight
Far over the sea, and in the vacillating winds
That war where the ocean meets the land.
It wore out, of course. Now useless
And filthy
And covered in crud. "Such am I," she dared think,
But shook and turned away, wondering,
Do I really find myself at the sea?

On she went, numbly, as ankle-high waves plashed
At her feet.
Her foot
Brushed something hard.
Her eyes fell down.

She lifted and rinsed it
And stood up.
The clearest glass sat in her palm
Polished by the tumult of the waves.
She stared at it
A long time
Then soliloquized,
"It has been through the fire, to be formed;
Certainly, it has been shattered,
But now, more than ever,
It has a shape all its own."
She held it up in the moonlight,
It reflected in her eyes,
And a smile crept most slowly on her lips.
Its cool form pressed on her fingers,
She clasped it in her hand,
And she let the water chase her calmly off the beach.

Comments

Wow. That was really good.

Wow. That was really good. Especially after you explained exactly your purpose in your notes. I could never write poems this way. And this is a great way to say how Christians can be renewed and refined after sufferings and trials. :)

Lucy Anne | Sat, 02/22/2014

"It is not the length of life, but the depth of life." Ralph Waldo Emerson

I love the sea--and I love

I love the sea--and I love how you captured the feel of the ocean, "waves that roll relentlessly" and your message is equally beautiful.

Raine | Tue, 02/25/2014

I love the sea--and I love

I love the sea--and I love how you captured the feel of the ocean, "waves that roll relentlessly" and your message is equally beautiful.

Raine | Tue, 02/25/2014

Thank you so much!

Thank you so much!

Hannah D. | Tue, 02/25/2014

"Reason itself is a matter of faith. It is an act of faith to assert that our thoughts have any relation to reality at all." - G. K. Chesterton

I think I am convinced that

I think I am convinced that you have a gift. This was wonderful! You portray everything so well, and ditto to what Megan said.

"She could feel the weight of a thousand years"

I liked all of the poem, but this line stood out to me especially. Amazing work.

Maddi | Sat, 03/01/2014

Goodbye? Oh no, please. Can’t we just go back to page one and start all over again?” – Winnie The Pooh

Wow.

This is beautiful, Hannah! I loved it so much, and it kinda refreshed my mind (if ya know what i mean :P) to read it. Keep writing!!

Susannah | Sat, 03/01/2014

"Even if the sun crashes into earth, I won't let go, I won't let go. I can be your light, stay with me tonight, I won't let go, I won't let go."

Thank you both, I so

Thank you both, I so appreciate your comments!

P. S. Looking forward to the next chapters of each of your stories. : )

Hannah D. | Sat, 03/01/2014

"Reason itself is a matter of faith. It is an act of faith to assert that our thoughts have any relation to reality at all." - G. K. Chesterton

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