i watched the children building
walls against the tide.
faces intent, frantic sand elbows
piling handfuls on washed foundations.
digging channels of diversion
on praying knees,
laughing backs to the advancing waves –
protecting what is theirs.
their shell turret castles
their deep sand stairways
their moats and feather flags.
i am tired of building walls
i have let down my drawbridge
opened my windows to the wind.
let the tide have me.
let it have my boundaries and proclamations
my loathings and longings
and silent hopes carried round smooth
under my tongue.
let it call my sand flesh from old tower bones
disperse me on long walk beaches
and sacred estuary shores
until all of me is swirling flow
and the coursing pulse of infinity.
let me meet you there on dancing feet
i am nothing but the tide.