Unusual sunbathers

Unusual sunbathers

Prone on the sand

Searching an escape from their lives

I spotted the two on the rocks near the shore

Concerned because they were so still

Roasting in the mid day sun

Skin parboiled like red cabbage

Drunk tourists recovering from a heavy night

Spending the dark hours poisoning their major organs

Now intent on barbequing their largest organ too

Holidays the freedom and time to

Abuse yourself as you see fit,

Sheer fun for one and all

Unusual sunbathers

Prone on the sand

Searching an escape from their lives

My happy cousin timed her meticulous suntan to the minute

Fifteen minutes on front and then back

Even her sides got their blasting

As she perched like soda bread on the griddle

Arms uplifted to let the sun get hidden crevices

“How can something that feels so good be bad for you?”

She’d grin and laugh. Freckled and happy from the sun.

Unusual sunbathers

Prone on the sand

Searching an escape from their lives

Sunbathing, I reckon is the closest

Most people get to meditating

Trapped by the sun’s rays

Made limp by the heat

They close their eyes and are silent for once

Feeling nature work its magic on each pore

Exfoliated by sand, massaged by salty sea water

The fresh air pumps into lungs

Usually office bound

And for that second they are in the moment

Unusual sunbathers

Prone on the sand

Searching an escape from their lives

When a child I would build sand cars

As the tide came in I’d reinforce my bonnet,

Flatten off my front seat

Place shells for speedometers

The feeling of ownership

And pride in construction

Then, I’d sit while the tide came in

Wearing down my sand defences

There was that delightful moment

When the tide encircled

My car became an exquisite boat

Followed by disaster and destruction

Never made any easier by repetition

My sorrow intense

As my creation washed away

Unusual sunbathers

Prone on the sand

Searching an escape from their lives

These refugees risk everything

For a chance

Setting to sea

Paying a fortune

A shot at freedom

Fleeing war, poverty, pain or fear

They set out against the elements

And all sense

On tiny ships ill equipped

Children clasped

The fragrance of hope and salt on their lips

This Mediterranean has become a graveyard

For people who had no choice

But to take a chance

Their bodies washed up on sandy beaches

Weeks later

Bloated symbols of what has been lost

Unusual sunbathers

Prone on the sand

Searching an escape from their lives