I don’t like feeling
like I am a shadow of myself
standing just outside the light
in the doorway.
But I do,
looking in at the room,
at the made bed
with too much light
falling on it now.
I prefer the storm against the pane,
the wind breathing
through the hollow
places ‘neath the roof’s shingles
when it’s too dark outside to see the surf
but loud enough to know it’s there.
All that’s over now—
the salt washed from my skin
in the last enshrouding rain.
My shadow’s stuck. A ghost hovering
with no reverse
and the forward light stings
like sand whipping up
the cold November coast.
Wow, this poem has real impactm Jennifer. I, too, love the blustery storms of winter on the coast and have also felt high and dry when away from it. I love the image of the sand whipping up the cold November coast. Beautiful work. Very poignant. I so know that feeling as I lived away from the coast for seventreen landlocked years.
ReplyDeleteThis is so beautifully worded, Jennifer. I can't even choose a favorite stanza. I love them all!
ReplyDeleteI love the play of light and shades here and also the 'enshrouding rain'. I also love the visuals the poem has within.
ReplyDelete"All that’s over now—
ReplyDeletethe salt washed from my skin
in the last enshrouding rain."
But the shadow! Did you leave it behind? This reminds me of how memory works in images, impressionistically, light and shadow caught in the retina of the eye.
I can feel that cold November coast - Glad i live in the South Coast of UK . Loved your poem.
ReplyDeleteThis made me shiver, both from the eeriness of it and also the poignancy. I love the idea of a stubborn and mournful ghost independent of, but still influencing the speaker. Then there are the natural references, so vivid and clear. I love this.
ReplyDelete