Bazaruto – A Poem

We lived for just over two years on Bazaruto Island, Mocambique, and memories of my time there inspired me to write this poem.

This Island

by Dendy MacToodle

This island, my home, cocooned in soft waters that caress its sands in time to the moon’s demands.

Palms, played by the wind, whisper their playful secrets.

Soft, sweet flower perfume drifts through my senses evoking mystic, evasive memories of a time I have surely once known.

Ah!  But when and where, and who was I?

The patterns elude my seeking mind.

But look, flamingos aflame now take flight and  even the sun’s brilliance is dulled as wings beat in rhythmic silhouette across its golden face.

A dhow glides by on oily, becalmed sea, and the wise and wizened sailor  waves his work-gnarled hand in greeting.

No beginning, no end.

Calm, at peace and one with the rhythm of life,  knowing he has always been and always will be.

Oh, that I would accept life’s offerings, content to be at one with the Eternal Whole.

But heart beats and yearns, mind seeks to know, restless as the wind that blows the stinging sand into my face.

Shifting sands, shifting moods.

Scudding clouds now obscure the weakening radiance of the sun, chased by the wind they move ever on. Warmth returns and sets aglow my sundrenched,  scented skin.

Dimmer, and cooler the life-giving light slips easily into the sea. Chill hits the air as darkness falls and nightjar calls.

Moon at last assumes her place as mistress of the night. Moonlight and  starlight, eerie and  silvery-soft caress the gently cooling sand, and the glowing, undulating sea.

Moon slides slowly down across the sky.

Black velvet creeps catlike from the shadows encompassing, enveloping the Earth, folding all in its tender embrace.

The only light: the stars reflected in the rolling sea.

The only sound: the rhythmic, eternal  motions of the tide.





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