All day the children have played among
these sands, though now they've been called in;
they're new to castles; they’ve built them all wrong
and left mere ruins for the waves to spin
into a mossy monument where waif
shadows end and where the sea begins
or ends, as well—or maybe oscillates
in doubt between her own unbounded haven
and the shoreline's earth-bound embrace.
A crass intruder, I stamp their brazen
caress with footprints, as the sunlight thins
out of the sky, leaving a patch of silence
alone, wrapped in the susurrating kiss
of yet another wave upon a shore
that sinks into a sea that is no more.
Crown with laurel leaves these breaths drawn
upon a broken dam that slows down time—
down enough for a second’s love, down
until the loss be woven in the design
of one's being; the light won't do; crown
these heartbeats! In visceral truth say:“Life
is impact, not the void where but the faint
echo of a fluttering wing remains.”
Evita Arakelian has obtained her Bachelor’s degree in Music Performance from the University of Tehran and is currently a student of English in the University of London. She has published her poem “Reverie” in the Summer 2021 issue of “Off the Coast” literary journal. Among her hobbies is making miniature figurines, including a set of Harry Potter and Sherlock Holmes characters, and an upcoming Shakespeare.