|Beached whale
a short fiction poem
In desolate desert land, far from the hands of man,
Where silence reigns, a wide and endless span,
Lies a lonely old boat, sunken in sand.
Its body is full of rust, a relic of the tide,
A sailor’s dream, now withering in pride.
Battered by the sands of time, weathered and worn,
In the heart of solitude, a vessel forlorn.
For years, it has inhabited this vast desert sea,
Its body slowly sinking in its grave to be.
A tale untold of how this mighty vessel fell,
Where the wind carries its prayers, a bitter farewell.
“I am in my grave in this barren wasteland,
And it is here I shall perish amongst the sand.
Let my tears become my own personal sea,
So I may finally feel at home, a brief moment of relief.”
“This barren earth, once a vicious sea,
A twisting and winding labyrinth I once roamed free.
But now it’s dried up, how I long to feel the ocean’s embrace,
Left with these dunes signifying my final resting place.”
“Yet why did it dry?
Why did it leave me to tell the story of gone tides?
Why have I not turned into the sands of the past?
What good comes of my remaining if I’m unable to adapt?”
“And who is to bear witness of my wretched fate?
Who will share my story of how I became upon this desert hellscape?
In fact, who has the answer to times turning sour?
Who can even help me see the light in my darkest hour?”
His words only hold a sorrowful tune,
“My body holds no purpose upon my desert tomb.
Alone for so long, only surrounded by silent gloom.
Only comforted by my thoughts, a solitary chime,
In this desolate expanse, a rhythm with no rhyme.”
His speech, coated heavily in molasses despair,
Rings out melancholic and gently through dry desert air.
“I only lay here, upon my desert hell,
Washed upon these dunes, similar to a beached whale.
I was once a mighty vessel of the sea,
A symbol of freedom, now lost in this decree.”
His grief grows darker akin to the night sky,
A silent reminder that another day goes by.
Another day of isolation, where no one can hear his cries,
Where he’s subjected to eternal loneliness,
A muted plea for a quick demise.
“In the shadow of despair, my pleas I send,
If there is a god up there, witnessing my sorrow, my friend.
I ask that you smite me, for there is no hope for tomorrow,
For I shall awake in this hellish wasteland, a realm of sorrow.”
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♡this poem was inspired by a boat I’ve seen in someone’s yard, I live in the desert and i couldn’t help but noticed how out of place it seemed
