Harbouring History

Speckles of blue, crisp iris
Shutters to a close, hide.
Rapid blinks as you sit
Shifting sand delicately
Through your fingers,
Grey wisps of hair sway
Gently upon summer breeze
Framing once beautiful face
Aging, little crevices lining
Eyes with untold secrets.
Breast less chest rises,
Colours of nylon bright, soak up
Sweat from agitated, breathless skin.
Motherly murmurs drift through soft wind,
Waves yawn stirring life, above
Plump clouds playfully chase
New days burning sun.

Now it is I know
You knew.
Knew all along.

Knowing you knew,
Hurls me back, to unwanted
Stories from history books,
Burnt, bent, locked, fastened.
We buried pages far, her and I,
Other side of earth, it cannot mar,
Taint, touch, for its gone,
It cannot harm, if it remains shut.

You knew?
Yet left us to drown?

Now it is I know
You knew
Knew all along.

As your fingers stray
To settle on my arm,
Biting cold, sun slams into
My skull, afflicting blindness,
Balanced perilously at the
Rough edge of my mind.
I sigh, smile,
Tell you it’s not your fault,
While I scream inside, causing waves
To crash, smash, through walls
Of my heart, bent out of shape,
Simple things in life
Often come too late.

You’re too late.

I smile, as clouds part, eyes glimpse
Ghosts harbouring, dancing along sea shore.