The sole tragic manner in which true peace and freedom can be achieved. |
White Beach Some who saw her Or say they did Recall the brisk white of her dress The sun seemed to make it Catch fire As she walked alone Into the frothing waves And I never saw it But I bet I can tell you what it was like All the same Feeling the white fire on her skin Arms legs stomach Shiver at the touch of the saltwater Higher higher I bet she looked at the blue overhead And thought of the years Falling away now It had somehow come to this I bet all she wanted was freedom Freedom to be as she was To be And there she had it As she slipped that hot white Dress All the way Up and over And let the waves carry it Far away She probably started hearing the voices then From the beach The chatter Human seagulls She must have smiled then Ever so slightly Every one of them like a child In her mind Those who saw her say she threw her hands up So dramatic of her Two stark little limbs Of a dying tree Then sank I bet her feet kicked Slowly in the sandy eternity I bet the first fill in her lungs Was a cleansing flame Salty, hot, delicious As she fell in slow motion Reaching reaching for something No one sure what As she gripped the violent dancing water But I bet you she smiled As she floated up like a flower To be found by the horrified little beach-goers With their empty mouths agape Black holes echoing why why why |