My Death?

Posted on December 4th, by Chris Morgan in Poetry. No Comments

I went through some very bleak and unhappy times while I was living in Vancouver in the early 90s. Some of that unhappiness and disillusionment came out in poems and songs.


The sea looked cold and blinding

Rushing on and off and in and out

Whitecaps appearing and vanishing

With a stroke of the hand

Inviting me into its depths

To sample its icy fingers

I stood bemuzed, bedazzled on my safe sand

Silty but solid

A seagull shattered the solitude, the silence

With its cacophonous screech

My bubble popped, I was up to my knees already

Stumbling blindly backwards

Clasping handfuls of air to break my imminent fall, in vain

The thud of my rump on the wet sand

Sent shockwaves up my spine and pounded my head

I was fully awake now, sober, feeling foolish

What was I doing, what had I done?

I didn’t care for dry land

I waded out splish-splashing my steps

Under the cool moonlit night

Up to my chest now

I turned and glanced back at the city

Its lights

Its skyscraping monstrocities of concrete and glass

The token trees that lined the boulevard

Symbols of life, perhaps

I thought of the people in clubs

Dancing the night away

And of the old people reading newspapers in bed

Newsprint on their hands

Lukewarm cups of tea on their nightstands

And the whole multitude of ordinary people

Sleeping fitfully with all realms of thought in their minds

Being transformed into better than life dreams

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