We want to walk around the coastlines of the world.
They are charted on maps that lure us,
lines of blue around them,
as random as cat-tangled yarn.
I want to wake on a shore,
let my feet feel sand and rock,
climb cliffs above white waves
that are so tall,
mists cling to them.
There should be a lawn that goes to the edge,
soft green grass a different sea.
I want to feel clayish mud
squish through my toes,
leave my footprints on the ice floes of Antarctica.
Pebbly shale in layers, steps to depths,
dolphins my playmates.  
Sand is my favorite,
beaches at edges,
water wearing stone away.
The temperatures rise and so do seas;
a million years and the shoreline
will be the summit of Everest.

 

 

Lucile Barker is a Toronto poet, writer and activist. She has had over 400 poems published in North American magazines. She also writes reviews and articles in community papers. Since 1994, she has been the coordinator of the Joy of Writing, a weekly workshop at the Ralph Thornton Centre.