If you drop here in often you will know that I love my beach walks and, in the past few months, especially, I have been incredibly grateful for being able to walk everyday. On Instagram I have been sharing one minute of my beach every day for two months. Until this week. This week a series of storms have rendered my beach inaccessible – because so much sand has been washed away that the stairs end well above the sand line, and the footings of those stairs are hovering mid air.
Versions of this problem occur right along the coast, but I did manage eventually to find the one point where the beach is accessible, about ten kilometres from here. You can imagine I was already feeling sad about my own favourite beach being out of bounds for the forseeable future, but when I did get onto this other beach, I was doubly sad when I saw all the rubbish washed up by the storm – plastic of all shapes and sizes, ropes, bottles, fishing tackle, you name it. I stomped around the shore collecting what I could and ferrying it up to the bin, and came home a little cranky about people who litter and pollute our oceans.
But later I paused to wonder if there was any good in this. All I could come up with was that I was giving back. The beach has been my sustenance these past few months, and now I was returning the favour with giving the damaged beach some care. From that, I was left with the seed of a poem.
Here’s that poem (or its first draft, anyway):
Naughty Corner
All summer
You have frolicked on my shore
Swimming splashing diving
In my nourishing waters.
You’ve felt my sand between your toes
And taken deep breaths of my essence.
In boats
On skis
And boards
You’ve glided across my depths.
And I have welcomed you.
But I have not been fond
Of your discards:
Wrappers
Straws
Rope
Baskets
Bags
Casually left
Carelessly left
Dropped
And forgotten
By all but me
(It’s hard to ignore the sick rumbling
Deep in your stomach)
Now, at last.
I’ve had enough.
All night I’ve raged and rumbled
and now your waste
Is spewed upon
Those very shores
You’ve wandered.
Take it back.
I don’t want it.
As punishment
I’ve also reclaimed some of my sand.
If you are very good
And show you’ve learnt your lesson
I might give it back some time.
Maybe before next summer.
(Copyright Sally Murphy 2020)
Funny how writing a poem always makes you feel a little bit better. I do still miss my beach though – so I went looking for another poem I wrote (and recorded for Poetry Friday) a few years ago about the things the sea leaves us:
I look forward to more treasures – hopefully I don’t have to wait till next Summer! (Although I do know, especially now, that being unable to walk on the beach is a very first world problem!)
If you want more poetry treasure, Mary Lee is hosting the Poetry Friday roundup at A Year of Reading.
How disappointing to be cut off from your beach and then to find so much garbage! It does feel better to write a poem and it made me feel better to read yours and view your video. Thank you, Sally
By the way – I love your one-minute beach walks! When I saw your pictures of the trash left behind, I was so disheartened. I can’t believe that people do that. I love the poem from the perspective of the ocean. She has every right to take that sand away! But I do hope she returns it.
Oh, no! I’m so sorry to hear about the damage to “your” beach. We had yet another 100-year rainstorm several weeks ago, and I just ventured down the bike path that goes alongside the Olentangy River here in Columbus. Evidence of flooding was everywhere, the water was still incredibly high and swift, and the stench of flood-mud was awful. Is it too late to change our ways and recover from global weather events like these? I hope not.
I hope not too, Mary Lee. I guess we have to keep hoping, and doing what we can.
I’m sad to read about the loss of your beach from the storms, Sally & then the trash left. You did give back to the beach for all the joy it’s given you, through the cleaning & the poem. When I walk by a nearby lake, I am always dismayed at the litter thrown into the wetlands nearby. I can’t get at it, hope that some can come in waders to collect it. It’s hard to understand why someone would just ‘throw’ their trash. Thanks, Sally.
It’s is hard to understand, isn’t it, Linda? And even allowing for accidental littering, there is just so much that is either careless or deliberate.
Sally, you were giving back to your beloved beach. I like the voice of the beach in your poem, a voice we all need to listen for. The poem video of your found treasures is lovely to watch and hear. Your treasures are so different from those of us on North Atlantic shores! Thank you for lifting up beaches.
Thank you Joy – and thanks for lifting me up with your visit.
What a wonderful response to storms and an inaccessible beach and the rubbish. I’ve been fond of repeating the phrase, “We’re only as strong as our weakest link,” during this pandemic. And, sadly, I see some pretty weak links. I feel better that you improved your beach as you could, that you still try to visit and that the beach speaks to you. I have enjoyed your sharing of the beach.
Thanks you Linda. yes, we do see some pretty weak links. And I keep saying ‘everyone is doing the best they can’ (a la Brene Brown) but I find it tough some days.
I agree, I think writing poetry is very therapeutic, Sally. Your poem puts things in perspective for both the sea and the beach comber. I hope you a walking in the familiar sand sooner than later. : )
Thanks Bridget. Perspective has never been more important.