Out on the beach
in the Tunisian heat,
as the clock passes twelve.
The height of the day.
Noon sun passes rays.
Tranquility, banana boats sway.
Waves bob about, para-gliders take off
to the sound of motors.
My son plays in sand contented as angels in heaven
salute brand new day, the video camera, the deepest of holes
like a crater as a baby sleeps in his father’s arms.
The daughter in water makes circles in sand, my son,
Sam’s crater, as deep as a bath Romanesque.
Like we saw in Carthage among tombs and ruins mosaics,
African carvings, arabesque buildings, medinas, mosques with ivory coloured domes,
walls of pure white fit for worship alone.
Now on the beach of the Wonder Golf, privately owned in a wooden summer hut.
Basking in the glow of the summer June water flow.
The sea is all cleansing avoiding shark bite,
My mother-in-law’s leg slightly sceptic, teasing the prey.
Shark bait is coming, no love leads the way.
Basking contentment, idle, serene.
The maudlin, the mawkish, the irritant side-lines, anger
forgotten no longer frontline.
Embers of darkness, fragmented, hate, we are living our life
in the mood of the light.