Poem: More Important Than Safety
A long empty beach with markers in the distance,
tall posts in the sand, invisible fences.
Somewhere, after you walk far enough
there will be a sign,
telling you where not to walk,
what not to do. Maybe it will tell you why.
You are not good at rules.
You never had been,
Never loud, you tend to walk right past them,
a gentle trespasser, a mangler of language
and convention, so quiet in your rebellion
That, you are good at. Not being noticed.
Slipping under fences and under the radar,
walking on the beach with a light footprint
that easily washes away.
Now, it does not matter.
The tide is about to change.
large swaths of beach will be covered by salt water.
The markers will struggle against the current.
Sooner or later, one or two of them will fall
and wash out into the sea. Driftwood.
There is no one here to see where you walk
or don’t. No one to know you are, once again
trespassing, your need for space and distance
more important than safety.
About this poem
I do have a predisposition to disliking rules. I think safety is important, particularly emotional safety. As I get older, I think other things are more important.
It’s funny how we age.