Judy Gahagan


Think of vastness, they urged,
where anguish will dissolve itself;
so we came to an edge –
an estuarine shore, to a ceaseless
re-working of the waves shifting
the shell-banks against the mudflats

to gaze across a sea – greyish
as the face of one who's been afraid
but will be no longer; the sea becoming
white under white sky as if all the light
had spilled out over the horizon –
to be captured by vastness.

All day the sea-birds had cried
their longing and ours; but now
was silence as we gazed across
the moon-lit pewter; silence but for
the water's thousand hours of filling
shifting gullies, the deepening chasms

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