M. Ann Waddicor writes

Harakiri 

Miserable morning 
my mind mesmerised by grief  
my senses numbed  
my body limp 

I slowly slide into the next day  
in a daze  
dazzled by the strong light  
the window accosts my sight  
like a picture of the past  
frozen on the memory by recent events 

shocked and left shaking  
like a leaf against a grey stone in the tide  
strangely affected as by some dread disease  
clasped and squeezed  
through narrow gaps of emptiness 
on an abandoned beach  
bereft of life 

silent sand corns silt up the sea weed  
the sun veiled in misty sadness 
like a dimmed light in the dark 
a scream of gulls sears the silence  
a knife edge of silver  
cuts the scene in two 

icy wind blows wrinkles on the sea 
replenishing the stream  
that flows into the unknown  
its cold bite unbearable  

the horns of a cow loom over the dunes  
piercing the sky  
an Excalibur  
Harakiri Harakiri  
the serpent of the ocean  
swallows my heart 

dank clothing hangs limply from my ships  
dragging my consciousness  
into the deep of my mourning  
all strength slaked 

bleached by the salt of life's longings  
crushed by the earthquake of my demise  
my theatrical mind running  
into the crashing waves  
my wish  
to drown from this existence