The Confessional

The City, discarded like a blanket

as you travel east, towards the coast;

to a place where you can be alone, reflect

and where you can forget all you know.

Yet there’s something attractive about it;

that knowledge, that life you lead;

something you need, and even want

Though you often wish there was more,

Hope that life has another face than this,

You know there are moments when

your mind is like music; rich and full.

And your conversation, though disjointed,

makes more sense than the books

that stand like walls, guarding you.

And as you stand watching the waves

you wonder why they move so slowly,

and why your life, in contrast, so fast.

Dimly you recall what is west –

what it is that waits for you.

Because you know you’ll have to leave

this place of pictures one more time.

Gulls circle in the distance, and

on the green-edged horizon a grey blur

hums busily, like a bee. And you’ve

stood here for hours; your legs hurt,

but you enjoy the pain. It makes

your thoughts seem more real; even true.

Thoughts that make you smile bitterly.

You start your car reluctantly,

almost wishing that it was broken.

At first you travel slowly, through lanes,

but as you leave the coast, the east,

you accelerate that nightmare journey

you have to suffer through so often;

along narrow familiar roads, where

so many conversations have been

constructed and re-constructed

only to be left unspoken.

Painfully, your eyes lift to the sky;

it reflects the sea and your life;

that bland yet wild motion of the waves

as they wash and re-wash the shore.