Siren

Echoes spill across the frothy waves

As I sit cross-legged, waiting,

Or, not so much waiting, as wondering, staring out

Beyond the horizon into the exodus of light

Where that something I’ve idolized,

That something I’ve nurtured down deep

In the furrows of pressing

Uncertainty

Floats listless and still.

Sometimes lured by croaks into the inky black,

I’ll lurk by the water’s edge, the salty slick of the

Rising tide cascading, wrenching the

Unstable pedestal out from under

The statue I’ve erected to your visage, to your…

Something.

Your shadow slinks out with the surf, barely struggling

To surface as the tide pools around my ice melt toes.

Filtered shell parts and smoothed sea glass toss about the

Narrow shoal, the salted spray spilling

Ballasted uncertainty at my feet.

I see your beacon, nestled high in a lighthouse rising

Through gap-toothed rocky crags.

You glimmer, spreading your light,

A pink flutter tossed between the furls of deep purple

Breakers as the darkness swallows your spark.

And then you turn.

Your glow dims quickly, the darkness enveloping and the wonder

Returning to leave me breathless, floating, listing and as before,

Uncertain.