Against Suspension

As a girl, I thought the city in the distance,

its backdrop of lacework bridges,

did the floating, not the island.

I know I wasn't floating when I walked

down the same beach and back each day.

The island never left the shore, no trick

of the atmosphere could make it disappear.

Even at the ebb tide, the rocks held

in steady demarcation, what the tide covered

returning to the edge of the durable world.

But the city drifted farther out to sea.

Later I saw through my childhood illusions,

and now I know that motion and stasis are one.

And which matters? Floating or standing still,

the tides are what the child thought slipped

between ocean and air: It's all the same,

it's the same arc of unremitting sea.

Share this story:

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...

Loading...

Save for later

Save
Cancel

Saved ( of items)

This item has been saved to read later from any device.
Access saved items through your user name at the top of the page.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You reached the limit of 20 saved items.
Please visit following link to manage you saved items.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You have already saved this item.

View Saved Items

OK