Corona, Poetry by Greg Kanyicska

WILDsound Festival

Genres: Fear, Hope, Hurt, Love, Longing, Distance, Loss, Relationships, Romantic, Innovative

by Greg Kanyicska

Those sands of the Moroccan Sahara that you
Walked, you touched, you breathed, have sailed over waves,
Greedy waves, on the Harmattan wind
To cross the Atlantic;
To redden my
To redden my
Eyes as I walk these cold
Salted sands at Kill Devil Hills;
Sky darkening as I look past the waves
And ask the wind to lift me, to bear me weightless.
Grains of sand flow like water at your feet–
A care-free thought carried across
Visions fade: this
Cold wind holding
The stars above the waves–
Stopping me from thinking, feeling
Anything but the need to turn away.

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