I saw once a boat

parked in the sand;

the name of its owner was carved on its bark.

The boat which once was a tree.

The waters had left a mark

below where the name was carved.

A name a mark of identity.

I felt the body of that silent boat

when the sun went down and the moon arose.

The sand below my feet

was damp and warm still.

and a boat upturned, lying in the sand.

The briny sand stuck to my feet, lingered on the tongue

and bit my skin,

a stinging sand

and the whistling wind,

and I sat in the sand

leaning against the moist bark of the boat that once was a tree.

I listened to the wind and the body of the boat

whose master was far from the shore,

somewhere fast asleep.

And then it started to rain,

a tropical rain on a darkening shore.

I got to go I said.

I 'll come again tomorrow to the same place

hoping to hear the tales of the boat.

Sushama Karnik (c)

26 June 2016