Sun Glitter By Mo Mahon

A date to self, camera in hand,  

observing the divots in the sand,  

footprints left behind,  

children running about, unkempt.  

A dead monarch washed up on the shoreline,  

a keepsake for a day like today—  

oh, to thank the divine.  

Where, even in death,  

a transformation such as mine  

still ends so beautifully.  

My human self surrenders to a vulnerable state;  

I decide to run into the clear shore,  

dancing with the current.  

The music radiates with the tide,  

the wind pulling me deeper within.  

Salty eyes burn as I swim;  

the sunset brings about pink and warm hues,  

cast along the already glistening waves.  

The ocean would evaporate  

if he saw just how bright she is today.  

I gasp for breath in an attempt  

to imprint this deep within my mind.  

The longevity hits me like ecstasy to the brain—  

this moment is what it means to be alive.  

As I slowly pour out bits of microscopic salt and sea  

from the palm of my hand,  

I stand still while the white tide  

attempts to push me back to my land.  

It’s as though I’ve never kissed water before,  

swam, and centered myself  

on the tranquility of the ocean.  

I’m met again with a twirl of sand  

and a cold plunge into what makes me feel undeniably free.  

Thank you, land, for the peck of life  

that’s sat within my soul and body,  

so kindly gifted to me.