LONELY HOUSE BY THE SEA
By Ariel Fleishhacker
I live in a house on the edge of the world and it looks over the sea. My shoes are buried in the dunes, among the shells and rocks. There are wooden stairs along the rocky cliff
pieces of drift wood heaved into the earth,
molded there by wind and sand,
held together by rope,
Behind my eyes I see bodies playing in the tall marram grass,
running barefoot across the yellow sand,
their shoes in their hands.
I hear the waves crashing along the cliffs.
The sea bending with the rain.
I watch the fog and the storm recede away and away.
And when I turn back they disappear.
My house is lonely and quiet and moves like a boat in the water. Sometimes at night I hear the sea calling out and when I open the door there is water at my feet.
Little painted red and white boats float under the stars,
moving by and by
Their captains wave to me as they disappear.
By and by.
I step out into the dark, but I do not leave my front step. I cannot follow the little boats. At night I collect stars and put them in a box under my bed. In the morning they are gone. My grandma tells me stars are not meant to be kept in a box.
Quiet is a place I look for within my memories.
A place outside my bedroom window
When I cover my eyes I see everything that I am.
The sea is like a body. It cries, breaths and sighs. Sometimes when I open my eyes I see it watching me softly. But I am not afraid. It is a good body.
It is breathing and telling me to go to sleep. One night the sea will push past my door, into my room, and carry my bed away. It will carry me out into the middle of the ocean, where there are stars above my head. I will be with everyone I love. And my bed will rock in the waves but never tip. I know I will be safe because I will be with the sea. And one day it will carry me