“Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness; and let them rule over the fish of the sea…and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.” Genesis 1:26-27
Sand lies still.
Untouched, a patent beauty.
Wave thunders, pressing himself across the ocean, always seeking, expecting.
He crashes over her, smothering her, wetting her.
Fulfilling his duty, he droops, flimsy, and dies at her feet.
Upon his death a new man births himself from her.
His journey is a predetermined one as he crashes harder, faster, crueler.
She does not fight, she does not struggle.
Instead, she tries to cry, but she is already covered in his water, and they are silenced..
At times, Tide must draw himself away, and she lies exposed.
Her patent beauty under thick sludge, her stillness no longer peaceful but petrified.
He retreats his body, and leaves her wealthy, swimming in jewels, corals, shells, expensive fish.
A transactional ‘love’, a compensation…?
They gleam on her broken body, she shimmers so she must be beautiful, and she is his.
She lies there nude, awaiting him again –
Now she cries, but she never heals.
For though we see her, we let the tide come in again.
She cries to us but we are deafened by his breaking.
We take photos of her.
We walk on her too, we smother her too.
She suffocates under him, but he continues, we continue.
He burrows pits in her body leaving her open and bleeding.
But she is still soft and curvy, and her breasts still fit his crest, and she is still shiny, and she is still his for the taking.
She still does her job. The one nature left for her.
One day she asked Sun to place a mirror of light on her body.
He saw himself, he saw his eyes as he came to shore.
His crest fell short, he missed her.
The wetness now his tears, the new drought her first smile – she asked him dryly, harshly:
“But why this time do you stop?
His quivering lip, his hateful reflection stared back at him.
One of four elements, now a plague,
Transformed, galloping apocalyptically to destroy a counterpart.
“my foam, my white rider, a smothering pestilence!”
His hand trembling, scared to touch the woman he had previously taken freely.
He cried, he screamed in agonising apology…
You too are man ; You are man, we forced your woe!
It echoed ferociously, pricking the ears of all the world.
The wind broke, the sails dropped, the sea was calm, the fog lifted,
And we could see.
Sea now played with Sand.
They flirt, they flit, they dance and sing together.
She breaks his tempestuous waves with her strength.
Sand lies still.
He and She ; Sand and Sea
Together –
They are everyman.
The World According To... 