I drive straight through until I get the sea, just stopping for gas and quick snacks.
Gatlinburg on the shore is what this town is, but I can see the endless waters here.
The threat of rain as I sit on the beach, the sky the color of an old, neglected tombstone.
The waters just as dark in color. But oceans separate the worlds, the planes of being.
I walk on the sand, heading away from gaudy, crass city. There are cigarette butts
and beer cans and plastic trash in the sand. Nothing sacred or beloved. No pride at all.
I walk on the sand, and maybe just in my imagination, I see a mermaid out in the water,
and I hear her tempting and mournful song, the only true psalm in praising loss.
I stand there, between kingdoms, wanting to leave this one forever, not knowing how.
I see, however real, a mermaid past the breaking waves, a dream of spirits and angels
that made all this world pure and treasured, before we made all of it all about ourselves.
Her song is mournful, a psalm to loss, and standing there, I wish for the will to go to her.