that comes back to me
for no reason at all
I’ll stand here in the kitchen
sipping beer out of the bottle
and the odour overwhelms me
sticking to my clothes
crawling across my cheeks
for a second I turn my head
to see where it is coming from
then I realise I‘m home
and that the stench is not real at all
it’s just a harsh memory
of a real bad and long day
standing and gazing down
at the washed out remains of a man
who died
inhaling
the ice cold sea…
…water
life giver
life taker
spirit keeper
monster maker
swallow you whole
spits you out
wherever it wants
leaves you on the shore
an awkward shape
decorated with bits of coral
dried
crispy
in the sun
the incoming tide
strings in bright silver lines
shining crystal around your neck
gently pulling back its hands
drawing your outline
in beautiful shapes
in the sand
over your blackened clawed fingers
and pale-blue legs
hermit crabs crawl over your face
to them you’re just more bounty
from the sea
and the wind keeps on talking
like nothing ever happened at all
the breaking waves
they sound the same too
I don’t know why some say
they sound like trains or thunder
they don’t
they sound like water
crashing on water…
…life giver
life taker
romance keeper
horror maker
swallow you whole
spits you out
wherever it wants
we searched for him for two days straight
he washed off a Vietnamese trawler
eleven nautical miles out
just inside the bay
a freak accident in last week’s gales
“How come he’s still whole?” A search team member asks
from behind me
we’re all wearing and wrapped ourselves
in neon-red windbreakers
“Probably because of the storm…”, another says
“…the sharks probably stayed below and he just kept on floating.”
Another stands a few yards away
taking photos
more
further up the shore
in neon-red windbreakers
near the dunes
and a parked forensics vehicle
beside a van from the city morgue
police vehicles on the beach road
nobody wanting to come too close
to the awkward shape
in the sand…
…water
life giver
life taker
end keeper
death maker
swallow you whole
spits you out
wherever it wants
and I take another sip of beer
from the bottle
walk onto the balcony
watching trawlers sail out
and all the while the wind keeps on talking
like nothing is ever going to happen
at all.
Conrad Kruger van den Bergh (Copyright, 2017)
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