When I was a child I would go alone to the beach in Mozambique…oblivious of the danger of unstable tides!
on the beach,
when the air is dense with moisture,
I return to the enchantment
of childhood hideaways,
where carefree humidity clung to my freckled skin.
far from the restraint of parental foreboding
I frolicked alone on endless sands,
with the warm Indian ocean
to wild abandonment.
charged by nonchalant inclinations
I remember surf up to my neck
of salty seawater
and being tossed by boisterous currents.
I was in pursuit of halcyon pleasures,
the pink glow that stung my pale flesh
beat down for hours
in tropical waves of heat.
I loved my sun-kissed cheeks,
freckles merged in tanned union
and I almost felt attractive
in golden resemblance
of what I considered beautiful.
My hair was sticky and course,
and like a sea urchin
I coalesced with bedazzled vistas.
mirages of eternity were at hand, softly caressing my isolation
as I quaffed fragrant diversions.
I recall the strong smell of seaweed
saturating my senses,
with hypnotic effect
that made me forget who I was.
and in that moment
I knew nothing could touch me on these esoteric shores,
where the African sun
was my only companion.
an idyllic setting,
where soundtracks of awareness made intention,
and I could no longer hear
above the roar of cosmic rapture.
within me, a silent squeal of pleasure could be heard
far beyond my minuscule world…..