The ebbing tide has drained the ocean floor,
a flat expanse of glistening, naked sand;
its sheen reflects a sullen overcast,
the white above, a silver film beneath.
The summer boarding houses past the dunes
have porches facing east, and now in dusk
a man with tripod sets his camera there;
his lens records the figures on the beach.

Three barefoot women holding flip-flops walk
immersed in conversation. Just beyond
A father romps while circling with his son;
his wife, who holds a snuggled sleeping child,
the shining star about which they revolve. 
A woman trains her lively limber dog
to sit and stand and fetch on her command.
A shaft of orange sunlight flanks the rank 
of clouds, and warms the supple skin of man 
and bride who walk beside the breathing sea;
they see each other only, holding hands.
An older woman, frowning, stands alone.

Aware but caring not I stand and stare
at sea and sky, the shining sheet below, 
the slowly moving ceiling overhead.
The overcast is pierced by setting sun
which dyes the quiet surface of the sea.
I see it, but it doesn’t enter me;
it has no life to offer, nothing warm,
no loving, secret message for my heart.
God, remote, inactive, passive, cold,
uncaring, watching from a distance,  gone—
Where are you?  Do you care? My aching need
exposed to empty space, I stand alone.

The waves caress her feet with kiss on kiss;
the wind enwraps her skirts in folds about
and gently dries the burning tears that spill
From eyes too full to see the seeing I.

Side note: I began that poem in 2007 and finished it this week (2023). I am not depressed! But oh, I was; I was. 2004 was a terrible year and three years later I was still in deep pain. Life is good now!