SOS.

It took her all day.
Shattered by the end.
Sweaty palms filled
with splinters from the
driftwood she’d used.

Slumped against a tree,
she looked at it. Huge.
Stark. And, to her, at
least, incredibly clear.
But then, she knew.

They didn’t. The people
who came walking
on the beach. Scuffing
her letters with their
careless tread.

They weren’t far enough
away to see clearly.
And the sea was frozen,
so no boats would ever
come. It was pointless.

They all went about
their business. So the
writing got smudged
as time passed. Erased,
eventually, in places.

From a lone vantage
point in the dunes,
She watched, but had
long ceased to care.
The splinters hurt.

Something at least
sparked the awareness,
the knowledge of
still being alive. Not
empty. Not completely.

Still here. For now.
Then the ice melted.
The tide came in.
And washed it all
away. All of it.


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