The Tidal Wave breaks

My wife took this picture at the waterfront in Buffalo, NY
My wife took this picture at the waterfront in Buffalo, NY | Source

The tidal wave breaks on the shore like the whip of a roman land owner lashing at a disobedient slave. Snap and crack, in and out. The motion stills the air. All around it can be heard, Crash, Crash, Crash, the sound of the rock bed being hit constantly by the barrage of water whips.

Shush, hush, all is silent. The moon shines down and glistens upon the rocks as they periodically are freed from their watery shield, to smile at their friend from above. Skitter, Scatter, Scratch, Scratch, the sound from a shell gliding along the rock, as it is surfing with the wave itself. Up and over the wall of sand and time to run off, there are things to see.

A way away, time table unknown, the grass sweats tears of mist. Silent still, is the night, it is all but random, and a here and there, a passerby. Swallow, fear to make the path straight but senses dull to seek restraint, and on and on, follow. Rose, asleep, twilight has past. And moon? She is but singing. Afloat in a sky, starry and full, the many winks model an afterword to the forgotten sun.

The night stops then, awake, alone, in time. The lights go dim to distribute a glow like a phantom, upon the skin. Chill creeps, but amidst the heat, it frowns no more, leaving the teeth clashing and grating, grating, grating, frown no more. The shadow looms blocking the friend that still shines. Skitter, Scratch, scratch, hide beneath the rock face dressed in colonial garb. Who, Who, Who, the shadow descends, a screech like metal, flash of pain, bleeding, hide.

Sounds like that of ruffling clothing in the wind, hangs about the air, the call is out there, who? It asks. Not sure, Unsure, afraid and lonely. Who? Don't know, Don't know. Cover and Hide, Sleep and try. Food, hunger, rest. Who? Don't know, Don't know. Heat is less here, chill is real now. Breathing, deep, silence weighs heavy in the air.

Tap, Tap, Knock, Knock, from above, can't see. Hush, Hush, not safe, eye angle, right side blended, Shadow creeps. It comes, it has come. Escape, breath, no breath, wind all gone. The ground sits upon the cheek like a mother caressing her child, one last tear falls and the shadow returns to the wild. Alone, lost, no more, just black, no fear.

The sun returns and day awakes. A wind it blows the shadows away, but in it is heard, only gone for the day. Red hair, freckle face and dirty hands, skips along to music. The flower beds bloom and the rock face shines, smiling to the sky. Vehicle or car, and passerby, never once aware, never once in line and the sun it beat and beat, until a cracking started to seep. Flesh now shown burns and moans, alone, alone.

A man with smoking pipe walking slow along the stone, motion to the space and hiding no more a movement must be made, the man sees need and must come to help. The man just leaves, and no hope is left. The sun it burns, there is not much left. The dark again comes and it is again just black. But water touches and new hope is born, man takes to the air is born. But the dark is not done and the trip too long, final thoughts lost in the sun. The man he does not stop but continues on. To the shore and to the water song and gently now the hole he buries, so shell to sea becomes the ferry.

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2 comments

Mark 2 years ago

Is this about a sea creature? Awesome!


Warren Curtis profile image

Warren Curtis 2 years ago from Buffalo, New York Author

Why yes it is!

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