Friday, September 11, 2009


We were pulled alongside one another
in some tide, some swell,
an accident of the current
or mischief of the moon
that drew us into stride, braiding
our images together
with the elegance of tangled seaweed.

We slept that way, tossed onto the sand
by the restless sea
until its jealous tendrils teased us apart,
leaving no name, no mark
to show you were real
but the half-remembered tang
of your words.

Rachel Westfall
September 11, 2009


Cat said...


Karen said...

"leaving no mark to show you were real" -- that is the true essence of loss.

Woman in a Window said...

I'm not sure if it's all in my head or not, but it seems to me I understand this specifically, but as it is with poetry, probably not at all.

Love the accident of current and mischief of the moon.

Anonymous said...

Oh oh oh oh oh oh I am on the same page as your words written here. I am liking such, muchly; you.

christopher said...

Apian Fate

As you say, I left.
I had to go, inner truth -
but I will die now,
die from my barb placed
deep in your dreams - it has ripped
my guts out - stranded,
hanging forlorn, lost,
and me leaking from the wound,
my faltering flight
is all I have left
now that I had to leave you.
Lover, I weep, weep.

RachelW said...

Cat, thanks!

Karen, yes, I think so too... this is why the idea of memory loss is so frightening to us, isn't is?

Erin, I'm glad.

Sarah, thank you dear! :)

Christopher, ahhhh, how did you know? Today's poem is my reply. You write of bees, and now I write of magicians, partly also inspired by Ursula LeGuin (the kids and I are currently reading the Tombs of Atuan). I suspect you will understand.

Kit said...

This is gorgeous.

Anonymous said...

this is just beautiful
"jealous tendrils teased us apart"