There is no help for it
The tide rolls out
And leaves the world exposed
The bones of this river
Mudflats dark
With my most secret thoughts
Blessed by the scalding sun
And the squawk of sea gulls,
Who mock all they see,
This unholy world
Filled with the disguised
Urges, the scrapping crab claws
The always vulnerable silver gillies,
And the foot prints of scavengers
Scrawled across the brown surface
In a covert language of their own,
The remnants of tiny dinosaurs
Not yet extinct,
This deplorable inner beauty
I deny in waking, but always return to
In my dreams, stirring up
The most savage desires shorn of
When the rich blue water covers it,
This elemental truth
Each of us must face,
In our struggle to survive
Or even thrive,
Our lives flushed out
By the movement of heavenly bodies,
So we can examine it
Take comfort in who we are
Regardless of what others think,
Or how we should be,
Knowing that in this ebb and flow
It is simply glorious
To be alive
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