Julia Bowling

Through My Closed Eyes

The sun is blinding. The world is nothing
But a red tint on my eyelids. I am unable
To escape the sand, even on the clean towel
Sand sticks to the damp edges.

The soft sand is warm and comforting,
The storming waves’ terror is far off, unknown.
I enjoy the unexpected pampering,
The comfort of a thousand grains of sand.

Relishing in newfound ease, I let them add up,
Unaware, until easiness becomes tribulation.
Suddenly, I am lost in a sea of troubles I created for myself
Without thinking.

No matter how hard I try to remove each particle I know
I will never be successful.
Their presence is permanent, my own fault,
The burden of a thousand grains of sand.

I cannot be sure if the sand is simply
The design of the towel. Meant to be or trespassing?
I should try to remove them, but their intrusion
is becoming too hard to label: moral or not.

The words I now wish I hadn’t said to a friend last night
Keep ringing in my ears, reminders of all my mistakes,
The consequences growing steadily worse. I turn onto my back
And begin to brush away the intruding beige flecks.

But they are innumerable, the task endless.
I resign to celebrating the beach’s comfort
Rather than stressing over that which is in my way,
Placed there by the sea in its natural course.

The sounds of the waves are unceasing. All thought
Diverted; I drift off into the soothing state preceding sleep.
Through my closed eyes, I can see only the heat of the sun,
The sand stuck to my towel, the monotonous sea.


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