standing here
at cliff’s edge
feeling far below
the great tides
the ebb and flow
the rise and fall
the come and go
of centuries
wave by wave
day by day
pure might incarnate
the power of indifference
the surge of perfect apathy
and I
insignificant
as a grain of sand
bounced and tumbled
helpless in the undertow
and that fringe of froth
on the silken azure blue
rolls in powerfully
then rises up
beckons me
then slides smoothly
down the sloping back
of the ever surging wave
dancing on the deep
reaching to forever
how easily I could slip
into that fathomed realm
down
down
ever down
into the waiting silence
without so much
a noticed sound
absorbed
into the churn
into the roar
without so much
a ripple
to disturb
the steady surf
a subtle crease
irrelevant
invisible
erased
gone
\/
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I really feel the edge in this. It makes me wonder all that came before. Like Merril’s poem you use the timelessness and the majesty of the water as the perfect foil to the indifference and apathy the person is feeling at that moment.
It is that moment of reflection facing that thin thin veil between here and gone Liss.
A stunning mental journey.
Thank you Bev… 🙂
Wow. I feel like I’m right there with you, Rob
-David
So pleased this resonated with you David. I frequently wonder, standing at the edge of a elevated position, what it would be like to jump — not that I dver would… it’s just that strange draw?
Rob, there’s actually a term for that–“call of the void.” Isn’t that weird?
Oh my, did not know that. I feel it so strong sometimes in situations like that— I actually feel mild vertigo, and need to strp back. But I always strp forward again — I like the rush! 🙂
Thank you for sharing that great term with me. Sounds most appropriate.
‘and I
insignificant
as a grain of sand
bounced and tumbled
helpless in the undertow’
We are all small, but not insignificant. Especially to those who love us. A deep and searching poem.
Thank you Ingrid. We are insignificant in the big picture of this universe. It is but by the love of another that we become significant, to that other. The more friends and lovers, the more significant. We definitely do have the potential for great significance — but I believe that must be earned… JMHO
Your evocation of the cliff edge made me dizzy, Rob. I enjoyed the feeling of looking down on the ‘ebb and flow / the rise and fall / the come and go / of centuries’ and the lurching feeling in my stomach – haven’t felt that for a long time. I love the sounds and colour in the lines:
‘and that fringe of froth
on the silken azure blue
rolls in powerfully
then rises up’
and
the sibilance in:
‘then slides smoothly
down the sloping back
of the ever surging wave’.
A little vertigo eh Kim — glad you enjoyed this?
“absorbed
into the churn
into the roar
without so much
a ripple
to disturb
the steady surf”
beautifully penned, and while we are all quite significant, this stanza reminds of how insignificant we can appear (or feel) in the grand scheme.
We are truly as individuals insignificant Ron, it is only through the love of/for another, or an important accomplishment, that we gain significance. We mustn’t confuse potential significance with actual significance. It is in the doing that the mantle of being can be worn.
Rob, you truly captured the insignificance of one person against the vastness of the sea. So vivid– I could so imagine that person standing at the cliff looking out–and hopefully only imagining the jump!
Thank you Merril. I do it frequently at my favorite Pacific Ocean overlook. I have written about it before.
There’s a new wonder of sound and rhythm and image in every stanza, but I especially like this: “the surge of perfect apathy”
Thank you Xan! 🙂 I liked the contradiction in that phrase when it popped into my head, glad you liked it…
There’s a fab alliteration in this poem: steady surf and fringe of froth. Great stuff.
Thank you Misky… 🙂
I think the borders are thin between us and our origins in the sea. It always calls.
I am in agreement with you Kerfe, yes indeed.
I have also felt the pull of the sea below… it’s amazing how easy it might be to disappear…
Isn’t it fascinating Bjorn, being in the position to know your mortality is in the ultimate control of your will, at the whim of an instant, single personal decision — a single step. Here, then gone… There are two things that draw me, from time to time, to the precipice of that cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean, in Ecola State Park, Canon Beach, Oregon — the absolute incomparable beauty, and that moment of power, of realization that I am in absolute, immediate control over my life and death. The adrenaline rush is so very intoxicating. Merril wrote that moment is referred to as the “call of the void”. My dark unanswered compulsion.
You captured those passing thoughts on the sea cliff edge so poignantly…but I just want to step back a bit!
Ahh, don’t be scared Lynn… 🙂
Structurally great rendition Rob. One can’t help but feel an urgency and on edge reading it.
Hank
Thank you Hank!
a powerful poem pulling us into the abyss … hoping you’re ok Rob?
Thank you Kate… 🙂 …I am as crabby and as crazy as I’ve ever been!
The voice of the teller here, is definitely on the edge. Looking down down down….the oblivion that would come from succombing to being absorbed by the dark waves…the depth of despair is what I feel here and its release is in the drowning and affirming the insignificance of this one life. I imagine this is how someone feels on the abyss of suicide. Don’t know if that’s how you meant it….but that is my perception. I think it very difficult for persons who feel this far in the darkness that there is any option or that another day can dawn differently.
Hi Bev. This is someone considering their mortality, realizing that in the particular time and place in which they find themself — stepping through the veil is just a single step. It is a powerfully gripping moment for anyone in that “I can just…” mindset. I grappled intensely with the reality of suicide in 1995 when my 18-year-old don Aaron was mindlessly killed by a careless driver. I do know what that pull feels like, to actively and permanently step into the void. I was saved by the love of my family, and especially my love for my surviving children, Jennifer and Justin. I put a definitive end to ever consider leaving this planet. With my beautiful Grandson Alex now being such an unbelievably wonderful part of my life — I am so thankful, so frequently, that I am here to be part of his life. I am slowly bringing him to love and to steward the natural world that surrounds him.
Elegant, alluring–I love it.
Thank you Zelda?
Incredibly vivid …. I can ‘hear’ you thinking, ‘feel’ the emotion.
Thank you Helen, glad this resonated for you.
Enticing as those waves sounds, I hope you stay at the top of that cliff.
My heart leaps and soars like a bird every time Ken, but my feet stay on terra firma… 🙂