Left Behind

There was a certain glory in the beast at sunrise.
The ship was battered and beaten by the wind.
Lost to the darkness. The waves were high,
When from the crow's nest, "Land ho!" I cried.

We had set out with the four of us,
Me being the least seaworthy,
The storm had taken everyone,
Washed overboard in the tempest.

The Pacific is a hungry dog,
giant and gray,
it beats its tail against the rocky shores,
All the live long day.

With huge teeth it chews at your boat,
As it moans out your name.
We had been torn from our anchor's float,
And now were miles away

The wind howled as I approached the rocks.
All good things come from the sea,
Close enough to see each blade of grass,
But far enough to let things be.

Just pass by on the sandy dunes,
Where both good and evil dwell,
Further from heaven,
And closer now to hell.

My father once told me,
The water now as silent as a mother's empty womb,
Better to be free,
Then in a lover's heart entombed.

I made my way ashore,
barefoot in the sand,
As seagulls chattered and teased,
Happy just to be on land.

As I looked out across the waves,
And the long way I had come,
I knew I had to leave my sadness there,
Upon a distant shore.

To the water until another day had gone,
I rested out of reach of the tide,
Curled into a ball to sleep.
My heart seeking a place to hide.

The storm had exhausted the fight in me,
And in my dreams,
I wept to be,
With friends.

It was a long, long night.
And I awoke often from fitful bouts,
Until the sunrise,
Sorted the hidden terrors out.

I brushed away the mental silt and opened my eyes.
The sea seemed far away from me,
Now vanished,
In the tide.

The storm had won or so it seemed,
It was a lonesome stretch of beach,
I found myself stranded far away,
With not a soul in reach.

I began to walk with hope,
That I would find a fleet of ships,
And a host of ghosts
Upon the shore.

A wind came off the sea,
And whipped the foam all around,
into a frenzy from the deep,
And slammed waves upon the beach,
As seagulls whimpered out their warning's calls
Warning all of the coming storm…

Timothy's stories and poems have been featured in Magazines such as Creepy Pod, Horror-zine, and Aphelion. He is a two time winner of the Golden Poet's Award as issued by the American Poetry Association.

Find more by Timothy Wilkie in the Author Index.