Only Flesh
by Michael R. Burch

Moonlight in a pale silver rain caresses her cheek.
What she sees are the nights of despair stars endure.
Nothing is questioned, yet the answer seems sure.
Night, inevitably, only seems to end . . .
Flesh is the stuff that does not endure.

The sand begins its passage through narrowing glass
as she sums all things past, and to come.
Only flesh does not last.

Eternally, night and day rise and fall with the sun;
each bright grain, slipping past, will return.
Only flesh fades to ash though unable to burn.
Only flesh does not last.

Only flesh, in the end, makes its bed in brown grass.
Only flesh shivers, frailer than the pale wintery light.
Only flesh seeps in oils that will not ignite.
Only flesh rues its past.
Only flesh.

Keywords/Tags: life, death, flesh, mortality, time, sand, hourglass, ash, loss, night, moonlight, stars, rain, grass, despair

I watch my feet
It moves discreet
Flowing sand
I stand

It ebbs and flows
Comes and goes
movements twinned
enacted by wind

Mesmerised
Caught by the tides
The sea has come in
The moment... fin

Once upon a time,
I was just a lad
with a book in my hand.
It told tales of a faraway land
Nearly lost to the sands.
For 1,001 nights, I wished I could visit
Such a magical place.
But when I grew older,
I realized something.
You should have seen my face
When I realized I never had to wish
I could be there.
I already was there every time I read.
And i'm glad that's a magic so great, it gets to be shared all over the world

I awoke in the desert
At night, with starlight
Illuminating the white sand.
There were sharp mountains
In the distance, with flashing lights
And beams that searched
All around me.
I crawled to hide behind a
Gnarled shrub that snarled
At me and caught my clothes.
And at last I fell asleep.
But woke to the same
Sand, white as bones,
But now, black-clad ghosts
Float past me, weaving
In and out of each other,
Their robes fluttering
In the hot wind and dust.
The only humans I see
are children,
Who scamper and smile.
Though they seem to be alone
And poor, they have their toys:
Pots and pans, old sticks and a doll’s leg,
Blackened at the  joint.
Perhaps children in some other place
Play with the rest of it, content.
But I notice that they are looking,
Always looking for something.
ماء! نريد الماء!
Ma'! nurid alma'a!
I want to answer
But cannot.
I don’t know what they mean.

The Seashore Gathering
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

On the seashores of endless worlds, earth's children converge.
The infinite sky is motionless, the restless waters boisterous.
On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children gather to dance with joyous cries and pirouettes.
They build sand castles and play with hollow shells.
They weave boats out of withered leaves and laughingly float them out over the vast deep.
Earth's children play gaily on the seashores of endless worlds.
They do not know, yet, how to cast nets or swim.
Divers fish for pearls and merchants sail their ships, while earth's children skip, gather pebbles and scatter them again.
They are unaware of hidden treasures, nor do they know how to cast nets, yet.
The sea surges with laughter, smiling palely on the seashore.
Death-dealing waves sing the children meaningless songs, like a mother lullabying her baby's cradle.
The sea plays with the children, smiling palely on the seashore.
On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children meet.
Tempests roam pathless skies, ships lie wrecked in uncharted waters, death wanders abroad, and still the children play.
On the seashores of endless worlds there is a great gathering of earth's children.

Originally published by The Chained Muse. My translation is based on an untitled text in Bangla (Bengali) first published in 1912 and known as "60" due to its numerical placement. Tagore made history by becoming the first Asian to win the Nobel Prize for Literature the following year. Keywords/Tags: seashore, gathering, children, sky, sea, water, dance, sand castles, shells, boats, play, nets, swim, fish, pearls, ships, waves, songs, mother, lullaby, baby, cradle, tempests, death

Set out from the sandy shore.
The lake an everlasting Paramore.

The boat breaths like my hearty chest
Up and down upon the waves white-tipped crest

Overhead the birds squawk in a one-note tune.
Like a harpsichord playing an unknown song.

Turning away from the sun
The blue ocean becomes glum Black sunglasses fall further on my face.

Water droplets still find my smiling face.
Sailing wind drives us away from my starting place

A Call
A Shout.
Turning on my breath

A shoreman’s happiest wish
A fresh face for whom to softly kiss.

The boat turns toward our shore.

Leading us to both softly tip
Without a word on our fearless lips

Docking us once more
Upon the sandy shore.