sun down or the letter


House of Heart

I ran along  the shore past the dunes and carnation houses. Scattered surfers lingered in the last rays of the day.  A heat shimmer faded as I approached.  I ran to it intent on vanishing beneath the gray veil.   I am sure it began to rain. Fat globules of sea salt clung to  my face leaking into my open mouth.  Jagged edges of breath tore upward from my lungs. When I could run no farther I sank to the speckled sand behind the old seafood restaurant. Wails carried out on the wind  and I covered my ears to block those guttural sounds of that pathetic creature, mutations of a wounded bird or the whimper of dying.  The pain streamed out into the ocean and at last drowned in the sea. Nothing  was left but silence.

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About Jonathan Caswell

Mr. Caswell has been composing poetry at least since High School. He has been on WORD PRESS for ten years and contributes to two other blogs beside this one. This blog has a Christian emphasis but all bloggers are welcome. Mr. Caswell chooses to---with permission--re[post material of interest

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