THE CURSE OF BEACHY HEAD

 

 

All around her the biting wind howled,

carrying fragmented echoes

of children's voices: happy laughter

as they chased each other - sometimes

perilously close to the lethal cliff edge,

where tall reed-like grasses bowed and rippled

as if paying homage to some ancient God;

all powerful...and merciless.

 

 "Afternoon."

Startled, she spun around to see

a man walking his dog.

Probably hurrying home to his contented wife

and happy home she thought enviously,

as she continued to climb the steep path

to it's highest point.

Once there she stood poised on the ridge

and watched the winter sun

striking the waves far below, like

watery lightening zig-zagging across

it's heaving surface.

 

Numb with despair and self-loathing,

she felt less than nothing: would much rather

be that discarded beer can on the path

than what she was -

his living, breathing punch bag;

bruised and abused, unloved, unwanted and

devoid of hope.

At least that can would never suffer

this endless pain.

 

Nowhere to hide here, the wind

seemed to whisper in her ear.

And her broken heart began to race,

beating it's now familiar tattoo:

Set me free. Set me free. Set me free.

Then a vortex of air enclosed her,

tugging her hair skywards as the sea

over two hundred metres below

formed itself into steps leading downwards.

Led Zeppelin's  "Stairway to Heaven"

began playing inside her head.

But, does the wind blow in Heaven?

she wondered.

Suddenly a gull appeared.

It hovered directly in front of her face

and the Angel opened her wings.

A peculiar calm washed over her

as she stepped off the cliff edge

and into that Angel's loving embrace...

 

Far below, a beer can rode up onto the shore

with the tide and came to rest

amongst the pebbles.

It's crushed and battered form

glistening in the healing rays of the Sun

made it appear content,

at peace.

 

And the gulls' mournful cries

announced the latest victim

of the curse of Beachy Head.