12: June 2016 #03 - Radiated Decor
Authored by Brytnee Miller
Down at the port the bows of ships left idle sweep with the waves masts brushed left and masts brushed right white caps cascading algae, green as mold, into decaying carcasses of piers forgotten praying for my father's soul an old shipwrecked sailor left with remains of fish guts caught off the Atlantic coast And here the Pacific, in all its radiated decor Seagull drowning sorrow on a downed sparrow Plastic bottle paradise pooling in between jetties where families once sat together; on top the moss under the bridge is flooded now like memories I wanted to keep hidden under sand and seaglass, Budlight cans never had a chance against rotating currents cradled by moon rays In my mind's eye I see a building rather old and broken down; bricks and rotted wood a little girl in a tie-dye dress stands in front fishing pole in hand; laughing and smiling The charter boats sound their departure alarms Captree Princess; heir to the throne of hermit crab kingdom and secret beaches. She dodges under the dock, swinging from pillar to pillar low tide graces a short drop into clear water. And gone, a tidepool turned sorrow tears onto a new bay; murky and saturated gray oil spills masquerading as rainbows; an inner child prays for those innocent observations Poseidon cannot be fooled. His trident surging storm winds, raging waters -- my sister the ocean slaps my face. "Anger is not your strength," spelt out in white cap drops. Bury the past. Bury the past. Your father, your mother, your sister, your brother -- preserved in each molecule; a saving grace. Mitakuye Oyasin, one with each grain of rock broken through years of battering; together they stand, they remember, they embrace. Little girl with curly black pigtails, tie-dye dress sits on shells and builds a castle of sand Saying prayers in ancient tongues to those she loves. Wind at her back, twenty years past Castles melt into the sea... Different girl, same mystery.