Secret shore

I want a life that is a secret shore,
that no one else but my Love would know.
I would weep and heal there.
I would love and die there.
I would see the most beautiful sunset and take no picture to show someone or sell somewhere.
I would see the magnificence of water and the sun,
Of the moon and the mount
Of the wolves and the hunt
Of the colours of her crown.
I would see where things begin and end, but tell no one.
Because, to speak of that 
would be to crack the perfect cup. 

1922, Internet Archive Book Images. Haynes, Jack Ellis. Harold B. Lee Library via Brigham Young University

Spilt disgrace

I hid it crumpled out of sight

in a bone-cracking fist, determined

to remain beautiful.

 

I slipped it under the sand while

standing around being polite, and

no one noticed.

 

I flung it out the window for the wind

to whisk away to oblivion in

some no-return land.

 

But one weak particle, one jagged word

one second while the armies were

unalert, was all it took;

 

strewn  across the floor,

splattering the white walls and everyone’s faces frozen

neck-deep in thick aversion,

 

was it- my foul disgrace

spilt

out in the open candid.  

        

Image by Ellie Noble
Image by Ellie Noble