(Kho Phra Thong, 2004)

We realise we are going to die.

A rushing roar.
Waves rise like hooded cobras
Chase our panic barefoot through sand
As we attempt to outpace time.

Scarring screams punch us forward
People behind are clawed mid-wail by cancerous water.

Leaping at sheer hillsides
Pull ourselves clear on creepers.
‘Is this all there is?’
Broken glass scratches hearts.
‘A nuclear sub must have exploded!’

Though daytime, it feels dark.
Sea drowns the island
Waves climb up our hill
Throats blocked, we watch a liquid world expand.

Sea-gypsies tie themselves to trees
Family groups shrink closer
The hill sinks lower, twenty feet remain.
‘Please look after my daughter for me…’
Exhausted gasps – fractured vision breaks daughter into three.
Lost monkeys encircle us like Buddhas.

Thunder of another wave.
Shrieks trail to silence
We are alone

Though bound by blood, each remains separate.
Having climbed inside ourselves
We are going to die.
And there are no last words.

As if called Everyone looks up into a velvet sea-blue sky
Hearing each others minds.

At first, automatic whispers stir the air
Then unashamedly loudly
We beg for help.

But nothing is lost forever.
Souls are rising.

N.B.
Sea-gypsies – Thai or Burmese families that live from small-scale subsistence fishing. More at home on sea than on land, they sail their flimsy craft from one small uninhabited island to another. They are recognised as experts on sea-lore.

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George Tardios’s Buttoned-Up Shapes, poems on Cyprus, has been translated into Greek and is about to be published as a bilingual edition. George has also written a book detailing his adventures in Tanzania, Lay Down Your Heart and this will be published next year.