Ghosts of the flats

Words by: Emily Moxham

Back home in South Africa, I can only attempt to sum up the ‘D’Arros experience’. A whole host of cliché synonyms come to mind; self-help facts and pocket guide advice seem to be all I can write. If I am truly honest, some experiences pierce you in a way that becomes almost impossible to convey. I wish I could somehow share what I felt in St Joseph Atoll in the Seychelles. Below is my best attempt: a poem about a day in the atoll.

Ghosts of the flats

Clear water at your waist,
toes emerged in sand
and the swift throw and tug motion of the day.

The sand flats slowly fill,
water rushing, life buzzing
and the swift throw and tug motion of the day.

Man hunting,
shadows flashing, joy is bashing
and the swift throw and tug motion of the day.

Nursing, stitching,
notebooks dating, tags pinging
and the swift throw and tug motion of the day.

Water lapping, bare sand exposed,
fish to the deep
and the swift throw and tug motion of the day.

Blind eyes casting,
stomachs rumbling, life and no fussing
and the swift throw and tug motion of the day.

Golden light, orange and red,
shadows evade
and the swift throw and tug motion of the day.

Night time sets,
Fairy terns and frigates reflect
and the swift throw and tug motion of the day.