Shadow-walking

When we came to Shanty’s Cove,
it silent lay; behind black-wreathed
doors no threatening alarms were raised.

Shipwrecked bodies washed ashore
now fast buried lay; the town’s life yet
unrestored, Hemalini and I roam free.

Shadow-walking peaceably where thalassic
currents thrash, we wonder when
we’ll be forced again to flee.

“Edge of a Dream” by Tom Chambers
For Carrie's Sunday Muse #236 weekly photo prompt;
Sammi's Weekend Writing Prompt #285
50 words exactly; using "thalassic"

Author: dorahak

The unearned splendor of being means we can always meet on a common plane of gratitude, aiming in conversation, art, and writing towards (as poet George Herbert said) “something understood.”

37 thoughts on “Shadow-walking”

  1. I expect that emptiness may be an illusion in any case. There are always shadows, and sometimes the shadows own the place, at least for a while. A fine poem for the gales of November.

    –Shay

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    1. The gales of November indeed, and the shadows are falling too quickly now. On that emptiness, the threat may be more silent/hidden but you’re right, when have shadows never returned? Too gloomy. Is it Spring yet?

      Liked by 1 person

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