blown towards a pantheistic faith
by Ceinwen Haydon
Gale force eight and strengthening,
twigs snap off branches, wave-crests
break into plumes of spindrift. I walk
slowly, my velocity counterweighted
by winds blasting my every step. Sand
swirls, peppers my hair, scratches my
raw throat. Seagulls toss on airy gusts,
flapping wings fail to restore their chosen
trajectories. Buoys bob with bold abandon,
suited to keeping afloat and skip in storms.
Rubbish whips around in vortices,
spoils my beach’s virgin, elemental
nature. My grab-and-gripper litter
picker is poorly matched, unable
to make significant difference
in the face of profligate plastic
droppings spinning in squalls.
An agnostic, I fall to my knees
and find my lips mouthing
silent prayers. Please,
before it’s too late,
give human hearts
the power to care
and act to save
our Earth..
Ceinwen Haydon (she/her/they) lives in North East England and is of Welsh heritage, seventy years old and still discovering what makes her heart beat, though fears time slipping through their fingers.