The Watchers

I spent the afternoon watching my son surf on Vazon beach. Whilst I watched I wrote two poems. The first I called;

The Watchers

Waves roll in from the West
their green backs rise and morph
to tumbling white spume
just before the flat expanse
of golden sand.

Beyond the breakers
a line of silhouettes sit
watching, waiting
rising and falling as rollers
power shoreward beneath them.

Beyond them a kite surfer
prowls the shore line
occasionally leaping skyward
to sour on the wind
like a graceful albatross.

The watchers sit up
some turn toward shore
the green wall bears down
tt stands tall but does not break
and surfers begin to paddle.

Gracefully they spring to kneel
and then stand
their boards turn and glide
ahead of the foaming mass
as the ocean carries them in.

John Carré Buchanan
28 August 2011

Shadows

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A friend posted some great pictures of shadows on Facebook. They reminded me of a poem I wrote back in December. Having re-read the poem it was interesting for me to see how far my faith has come during the intervening six months.

Shadows

It stalks me,
every waking moment;
and more.
Never really lost.

Trailing, preceding,
climbing walls and curbs.
Bending, distorting,
fading, deepening.

Just when I think it is gone
it leaps out.
This time a grotesque head
balanced on a tiny frame.

In the morning sun
it falls behind
like an anchor
to my past.

At noon it’s humble disk
flits around my feet.
In summer deepest black,
in winter failing grey.

In the evening,
under a silver moon,
it clings to my feet,
like a child begging not to sleep.

I’m told there is another
whose with me all the time.
Omnipresent but invisible
and watching over me.

Like my shadow he’s attached to me.
He holds me tight all day,
but as a shadow needs the light,
I need faith to see.

John Carré Buchanan
01 December 2010