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.

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