I should have spoken
of other women on the shore

women who walked here
dressed in the skins of seals
dragging seaweed up the beach
leaving it to dry
setting their signal fires
burning the bodies of their dead

women whose wombs
synchronised with tides
who watched repetitive waves
the swell of waxing moons
who birthed their babies
in my shallows

women who in all weathers
ran down the dunes
pulled off their clothes
tall they were
short hair cut like boys
and fearless
fearless as warriors
out of their depth
breasting my waves

women who watched
for a patch of sail
on the horizon
praying it was one of theirs

a woman who stood
at the edge of my waves
scribbling in her notebook…



and I should speak

of the times

before and after this



when no one came.


Leave a Reply