What's Worth Saving (?) (Poetry)

She is alone on a beach
at the edge of the world
the clouds hang low and black above her head
out to sea there is a wave
gathering its strength
rising out of the cobalt depths
carrying a pearl-white crest
like a melting
constantly reforming crown

She looks behind her
sees a crack appear
red and threatening it widens — gapes
in the side of the mountain
a mouth that roars an ancient pain
spits a hopeless anguish
lets rip with fire

She turns back to the sea
the wave now towers tall as a highrise block
a blind monster feeling its way
groaning with a weight of pebbles
rolling in its belly
like the screams she has inside her
plugged deep — hard-swallowed fear

She is trapped between two horrors
fire and water — burn or drown
the air is choked by elements of both
she cannot breathe
she cannot think for smoke and spray
she’s boiling in her skin
decides to lay
face down on the sand
just wait and pray
for a quick-as-possible end

She’s feverish and broken on some rack
the Devil has designed to suit his whim
a scorched and mangled mess
of bone and skin
she whimpers barely conscious
unable to be sure of anything
then a cup’s pressed to her lips and a cool stream
releases confusion locked within

He cradles her — whispers and soothes
this angel moon-feathered and old
tends to her wounds
on that beach before dawn
gives her his hand to hold

The ocean’s since given up anger
waves rippling silver — serene
and the unholy mountain’s recovered its stature
with its skirting of jungle-wild green

She sleeps for a year or maybe an hour
while the healing renews with a song
that the breeze carries in from a land far away
and that echo familiar rolls on ...

Sings pulsing through her blood
imprints on her brain
the stars glitter-grains in the surf
as the poet beachcombs at the edge of his mind
for signs of truth’s gold lost to earth