The Poetry Marathon

underneath the sea
I am floating away,
drowning and dreaming.

On the boat from Haiti I died –

I died from the letters that drifted into the ocean,

melted into the water.

I died as the ink washed away

page after page of words

I wrote you.

I died at the thought of you –

alone – never knowing, truly

how much I loved you.

The truth is

I died the moment

I caught my last glimpse

of you.

On the boat from Haiti

I was a ghost

lamenting my lost love.

Sleepless night, sleepless day,

Pass everything by – I’m in a haze,

my mind is a fog –

memories displaced,

my thoughts are a puzzle

with scattered pieces.

I lay awake at night

and watch stains on my ceiling,

I dream awake at daylight,

the stars and the moon –

I’m merely an image now

of what I used to be.

Imagine the city

with its throngs of people,

crowds melting into each other,

voices blending together –

and amidst all, there’s you –

a lonely voice – unheard,

a lost face

in this crowded space.

I walk around with your words echoing in my mind,

I walk around with our unfinished story

reverberating in my head.

You are more broken

than I could have thought –

your scars fill pages of my diary,

words upon words

I poured out through my tears.

I wrote you a letter

and spilled my hateful heart

all over its pages –

and I forgive you now.

In my head, I’ve already written our end –

happier than you ever could have been.

When you speak

there is poison

pouring from your lips.

Eyes are the windows to a soul –

yours are an azure blue nightmare

haunting my sleep.

pink and white blossoms

floating gently to the ground,

like fresh falling snow.

In a dream I see you,

clear as light of day,

the smoke surrounding you vanished,

walls around you disappeared –

and you are no more than a memory

for me to forget.

The boat sways with the water,

fisherman sways against the wind,

wipes sweat away from brow,

pulls another net in.

The fish gasp in oxygen –

thrash in agony –

fisherman sighs against the rising sun.

This heat is unbearable.

This oxygen is unbearable.

Market day – stalls filled with dead fish –

eyes wide open, mouths wide open –

as if taking in the last breath of toxic air

in a desperate attempt to survive.

The smell of fish is overpowering –

people pour in from all corners – eyes alert.

Fisherman watches on,

wipes sweat away from brows –

this heat is unbearable.