Spurned


It’s a wise man who knows what is enough.
That wise man will know
On tumultuous days,
On days when the world goes wrong
When questionable virtue ascends
And good men wring their hands,
Fortunes fail,
Scum comes to the top
Visible , filthy, corrupt,
That, on a beach, empty of anyone,
Not where watchers go,
But wild and dangerous,
Where tide rips kill you
And ebbs slide faster than snakes,
And waders eye cautiously the waves’ foam,
There is enough,
And will build there a fire
To warm against winter whipping the dunes,
Will start by looking long at the desolate beach
Seeing nothing but hopelessness
Then closer with a rummaging eye
Spot this small twig, this dry marram, this old weathered shard
Till spark and fire are made, fanned, and warm the cold soul.
He will find enough to do this
Knowing what is enough.

By Henry Berry

Spurn Point Lighthouse and beach


Henry Berry lives in a rambling old house in the rural Vale of York, England. His writing focuses on external and interior, mental landscapes inspired by intimate contact with the countryside immediately around his home. His blog can be found at www.henryberry.blogspot.com/

Photo of Lighthouse at Spurn Point and remains of WWII defenses in Yorkshire, England, by Christopher Smith

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