Escape

I will forsake the tumult of my mind,
And take my body to the quiet sands
Of some blue-rippling cove . . . And I will find
Freedom from mental warfare in the hands
Of water that caresses, whips, and stings,
Streams over my warm body, green and cold,
Yields to my every movement, whispers, sings—
By turns is laughing, sympathetic, bold—
Impersonally soothing . . .

I'll forget
The endless questionings that night and day
Make tumult through the mazes of my brain—
Racing and fighting—seeking for a way
To some vague goal . . . They faint, they rise again.
And grow, and shout, and reel, and fight, and teem—
Till I am but a place where dream fights dream.

I'll leave all these illusions—fill my brain
With pure sensation in a glorious dive
Down through the ocean, with a swirling lane
Of foam behind me . . .
Laughing and alive
And flug luxuriously upon the sand,
I'll drink in sunshine till all thought and pain
Are banished from my body, and again
Sun, sea, and I go laughing, hand in hand.

—Esme T.