Poetry

An Imposter Consoled by the Sea by Megan Sanders

I was in abeyance,
And still the tides rolled endlessly, sparkling under a spectacular golden sky.
Perhaps it was because I was an amateur.
I lacked the simple adroitness to deserve anything more.
So I am left in shackles by the shore,
And I am severed from serenity.
It seemed as though the abyssal trance,
Of my roaring blue sanctuary absconded
With nothing to salvage,
Save for my scattered selfhood.
It was like the beach eroding away, abjured by the tide as my feet sank into sand, buried away,
And left abandoned on the shore.
I was scared, afraid
Of how serene and yet obscure of an acquaintance
The sea was to me.
And yet my alibi came from its waters,
The amorphous alias that had adorned me,
Along with a dull ache.
A dull ache that pounded and rumbled through my feet and echoed through my mind,
Like the thunder that set its way over the horizon.
Ambiguous was my abode within this strange ambiance.
My fears assaulted me as salty spray of churning, cool waves.
They mixed with tears,
That left to reunite with past anxieties.
How altruistic of it. 
To allow my agrestal performances 
To seep into the sand for another to seek.
The abuse from myself left me airless.
The sea knows my lies well,
So why does it not advocate for my abdication?
Why does it not abandon me on the shore,
A slave within the shackles
That I, myself, adorned?
The marine breeze whispers to me.
It assures me,
That I am saved by my actions,
Rather than the words telling me,
There is nothing that I have earned.