Southland
Southland
By
Alfred Brock
Contents
Introduction
Recently I travelled to the beautiful city of Myrtle Beach ,
South Carolina in the United States.
It is a vacation area and also a conference center. I was there with a dance team from the City
of Wayne, Michigan because my daughter dances with them.
The dance team from the All Star Patriots Dance & Gym.
The students, under the tutelage of their Instructor,
Teachers and Staff did very well and brought home many honors. They represented their families, friends and
City very well. We are proud of them.
While there I had the opportunity to not only view the dance
event but to enjoy the beaches along the Atlantic Ocean, the entertainments
along the Strand and Boardwalk as well as the City of Myrtle Beach itself.
Not only that I was able to go to the Lewis Ocean Bay
Heritage Preserve. My son went along
with me and we got a first hand experience with the Carolina Bays.
I had seen them first from the air about five years
ago. It turned out that Carolina Bays
were not known as a unique geological feature until air travel was being
carried out in earnest. They are not
visible from the ground and even when they occur their outlines are such that
they blend in with the surround environment.
From the air, however, they are clearly visible. They are elongated ovals occurring from the
States of Delaware down to Georgia.
Surrounded by a fringe of white they are filled with dense foliage of
all types.
We took photos of the area and some soil samples to study
upon our return to Michigan.
The work was done in honor of E. O. Wilson who famously
said:
“Don’t be afraid of science.
Uh, because there are a lot of people who say, uh, oh you have to know
mathematics. Or, oh no, you can’t do
science unless you have a huge building, you know, you’re splitting atoms. You can’t do science, you know, unless you
have this super-microscope, you know, you can see down to or almost down to a
little atom. You do just as good science
here. Just what we are doing.”
All through the area were wonderful things to do and even
more wonderful people. From the
attentive and interested Italian Ice Vendor to the strangely focused Life Guard
it was a pleasure to share the beach and the world with them.
Talk
Burning Sun upon my back
Along the Beach Strand where
Ice vendors call their wares
With dreamy assurance of sweet recourse
The sand so rough and sure
Moves with careful motion replacing
Voids and filling gaps, so that,
Sliding movement becomes firm land
Buildings made to stand
In wind and rain and flood
Are painted
Blue, Rose, Navy Blue, Teal, White, Orange, all shades of
Gray
Shuttered windows
Bastion Doors against the Sea of Glory
Palm a rustle among the bustle
Of beachcombers, beachgoers
Water sound by pool’s edge
Calming
While early morning strollers
Walk in careful unison
Workers pledged to today’s labors arrive
With tools dispersed
Below the singing birds of morn
Under skies of multifarious blues
The Sun beats down and drives the world
From a night slumber
Running man, swimming girl, diving boy
Father teaching daughter to swim
So many times lost to work
And times
When is there time to rest?
But rest not
Beneath Helicopter Beat
The Life is expended, so Talk
Dove’s Wing
How many Lives
And Worlds
And Suns
Lay reflected on the Sea?
Each sparkling, glittering light
A reflection of the Life of the Sun
Combined within
Behind
Around
The shiny flashing beacons
All the Sky and Land and Sea
Combined there also
Almost too much to bear
Bear and see, but there it is
Upon the Sea
Where does a reflection end?
When does a reverberating echo go silent?
A beam of light dispersed and placed upon a wave reflected?
Like a silvered glass pane
Mirrored in image
Profuse in detail
In like similarity to Infinity
What was these waves profound
In whose image found
The light of the Sun is bent?
Is that new image true or
Sent now a new picture pure
Of another world reflected?
So then
If Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder
Then what is this reality sharpened, sharpened, dulled,
reversed?
Then questions oft asked
If a Tree falls in the Forest and there is no one to hear
Does it make a sound?
No, that is a noise.
Then what about the unobserved Beauty
In the curling of a Dove’s wing?
Silent Footfalls
Development
Building
Destructions of all sorts labelled constructions
The Sun beats down in yellow profusion
Brighter light turns wood to white
The Creek
The Stream
Is empty of water
Some had been in one recently
The Pond trail leads to the Pond
Empty
Of water
Filled with water plants
Surrounded by a flurry of Willows
Do they belong there?
Might Pines remain – scattered about
Lofty and tall
Wax Myrtle
Sweetgum
White Pine
Some Oaks, Others
The Old Forest from the coast
The Pier is closed so we go on into the woods
Avoiding the Beach
We are staying on one so no difference
We see a Cardinal, another Small Bird
An Anole
We hear other birds
Hear a Squirrel
No other Mammals but two loud Hikers
Tromping
Tramping
Sure of their voices in the Woods
Everything becomes still as they pass
Even we do
A jetliner flies overhead
The Cicadas
When the hikers are gone
Recommence
Passing
Wondering
We move with silent footfalls
Strange Sound
Magnolia blossoms
Harden and fall
Their full airborne sweetness
Condensed
One must pick one up
To inhale it strange, exhausted perfume
The Sunlight
Lays down on a bed of Leathern Leaves
Scattered
A Mockingbird in joyful song
Conversates with the morning light
Gentle Ocean Breeze
Warmed by the island sands
Plays about
Crackling wooden leaves
In lovely sadness
Break away and fall down
Down to the Waiting Ground
Where sunlight and shade trade places
As they move across the surface
Under Holly
Myrtle Boughs
Sighs of pleasant air
Refreshes the atmosphere
Birds break into song
Filling the quiet
Where shoes and feet have filled time and place
Cicadas sing in the slow heat
Slowly coming down
Throbbing into time
Synchronous
Then in chorus falling quiet
Then begin again
Crepe Myrtle in Scarlet Red, Pure White and Shocking Pink
Fill up the branches of Painted Bark
Palmettos wave in silken breeze
As warm as smooth skin near
Songs that songbirds sing
Love and friendship
Warming and greeting
Wrapped in strange sound
Dinner’s Panning
What can I tell
Is in a shell?
These things they all have
Meaning
What knowledge do I crave
That is hidden in a wave?
Why would one make a question
To the sky?
Vining vines take their time
To go up trees and flower
Oaks stand tall
Then spread their limbs
Till they become a bower
Myrtle bend across the Dunes
Like green canopy across
Underneath is open space
And seats there made of moss
Lichens appear upon the bark
Of Holly and spread like faces
A Mane to set the tree all hoary
Wood Ducks sit up in the trees
With their Ducklings weaning
Till they up and all grow up
And out the Nest are leaning
Plop, plop, plop
They fall upon the Land
Then off to the River they go
Frogs hop aside and in hiding abide
Till the Ducklings they are swimming
From Branch to Branch
And Tree to Tree
A Hawk on wing is spanning
While down the Bush
A Bob White Quail
Calls it Chicks to fanning
The noon passes by
And time goes on
Till it is time
For Dinner’s panning
At Once
Eyes like a green Ocean
Hair of burnt umber
A rapid rushing
Talk backed by a power that demands attention
Irritating to some
Intimidating to more
A kind word
Suddenly this rushing flood
Is like a stream upon my back
Refreshing and Cleansing
The words have not changed
But now the staccato rhythm is modulated
Careful
Searching
Unsure
Beneath the pounding surf of breath
And words of a current of conversation
Ensues
We talk and time goes by
It is simple to talk
Like a balm on my forehead
Cautious
Tales, Information, Humor, Nonsense, False Starts, Stops,
Broken Fragments
As she turn away
My eye plays upon her face
If I could draw
Rather than scribble
If I could paint
Rather than color
I would hold that, expression
And the next
And all trailed together
Like a kaleidoscope of clearly reflected images
Like the myriad infinite reflections of the Sun and Moon
On Waves and wavelets and drops of water
Her voice no echo but
Sounded from everywhere at once
Riding On Air
Pelican wing wide
Rise up on the Wind
Gliding across the waves
Parallel
To the surface of the waves
Down in the troughs
Then above
The Crests breaking white in the Sun
Till they rise up
And in Wheeling Circle rising up
Sight their prey
And slicing down like a Cutting Knife
Dive deeply into the Sea
And Ocean Blue
Plucking the Silver Fish, Golden Fish, Rainbow Trout, Sea
Catfish
All of them Fishing
Then up in cavernous mouth
And Up, Up, Up
They floating then
Swimming, see bobbing
To the Surface where floating on the endless Sea
Topped by flecking foam
They Swallow their catch
Single. Double. Triple. Five. Six. More
Casting out onto the Sea
Seeking food on which to feed
From Early Morning to Nighttime Falling
Wingspan the size of a man or woman
Walking
Near the beach and close enough to see
Or out where they appear like dots
Or lines on a troughed wave
Out to Sea
Out to Morning in the rain sitting quiet
Rain
Down, down, down
In the mist on water
Lifted by Wave
Again, again, again
In Summer Sunshine
Lifted by Wind
Riding on Air
I remember
I recall
I put it all together
Add it up
Leaving New York
On an early, early morning
Pulling out in the dark
Leaving the City with the Trucks
Through the City itself
To the Holland Tunnel
Riding down among the Trucks
Names and marks alongside
License plates
Announcing States from all across the nation
The building in golden light shed upon my eyes
I drank in the manmade lights
The sound of Trucks thrumming and throbbing
A shout here
A should there
Other than that silence reigned
We rolled through a City of the Future
With buildings that seemed to touch the sky
Spirally down
Down
Deeper, deeper, deeper
Into the ground
The buildings mounting up above us
Taller and taller till only a small part
Or sliver
Of the sky could be seen
Then a click as from pavement to brick
The road surface changed
Then a new sound comes out of the ground
And becomes a slow, laborious whine
Roaring Trucks begin to pace through the tunnel
Faster on the left
Reasonable on the right
Till out the Tunnel
We go
And the Trucks open up
Uncle Charlie
My Uncle Charlie
Smoked cigars
Not some stinking ones by some
So sweet and enticing
Fragrant
It was hard to tell they were cigars
Not Harsh
The blue smoke curling up
Filling the kitchen where he sat
With blue smoke
He never did it long
One day my Mother got a tick in her hand
In her palm of all places
Where the heel of the hand leads to wrist
She was frantic
Thought she needed to go to the hospital
She asked my Father for help
He said he didn’t know what to do
My Aunt Florence stepped in and said,
‘Charle will know what to do. Go see Charlie.’
She hadn’t really spoken to him before.
She went to the kitchen where he sat
At the white formica table
He looked at the tick in her hand and said,
‘It certainly got itself in there.’
He puffed, puffed, puffed his cigar
Till the end was red hot
There was a cloud of white smoke
He grasped her hand
He was immensely strong
And sure
He said, ‘Don’t worry, Rose Marie. It will soon be done.’
He held her hand tightly but carefully at the wrist
He moved the burning end of the cigar
And just as she was about to cry out something
He put the cigar back in his mouth
Grabbed the tick which had backed out of her skin
Squashed it between his two powerful thumbnails
Then he cleaned the wrist with alcohol
And the hole closed like it had not been there
My Mother rubbed her wrist in wonderment
Uncle Charlie said, ‘It’s gone.’
He went back to ruminating
My cousins told me he was mean
I sat in the kitchen near him whenever I could
He exuded power and life
One day Uncle Charlie asked my Aunt Florence
Why the boy (me) sits by him and she said,
‘He really likes you Charlie. God knows why.’
He said, ‘Well, that’s good then.
He touched my head and went back to reading the paper
No More
The Ocean
Waits for its weight to be reapplied
The whales have not returned
Here yet
They say there are sportsfish out beyond the Sands
Bluefin, Yellowfin, Shark, Sawfish, Yahoo, Dolphin, Others
In smaller numbers
Taken by a racket
Two rackets
The first
The fishermen
Came down from New Jersey
Set nets
Drop nets along the beach
Tie them on in a way that made a sein
They drew it in slowly
Slowly
Quicker then
Attached to trucks
They drew up the nets
And took all the fish
Not everything was kept
The rest they left on the beach to die
Or dead
The Seabirds starved
As the Fish numbers shrank
Then came the Trawlers
Steamships
Diesel Ships
Wider, wide nets
Made of steel and space age nylon
Take up everything
Trawling the bottom with steel nets
They tore up the seaweed beds
Isolated corals
Soft corals
Crabs
Shrimp
All the Habitats destroyed
Then the Chinese ships came on their heels
And stripped the place clean
Even wasted ones were put out of business
Till it was all gone
All gone
The Ocean was still there
The Sands
But no fish
Few fish returned
Now, the piers, once centers of entertainment
Remain so
But give to a small number
Who realized it
Opportunity to live
Scrape by
To live from the bounty of the Earth and Sea as it should be
As it is
No more
Do That
She’s working
All the time
Fixing
All the time
Protecting
All the time
Taking
All the time
Arranging
Arranging
Healing the Family
Broken
She takes the pieces
Rolls them together
Ties them together
Sews them together
Glues them together
Seals them together
Burns them together
Pegs them together
Rivets them together
Knits them together
Fits them together
Plugs them together
Pulls out
Fits
Smooths
Readjusts
Fits
Fitting
Solving
Questioning
Demanding
Setting
Sets together
Then it’s a break
Time for a rest but
Taking no rest
Reassigning
Resetting
Refitting
Retrofitting
Combining
Protecting
Lining
Refining.
Together
Then good
Be good
Don’t do that
You always do that
Stop that
Do this
Never admitting hurt
Acknowledging guilt
Assigning fault
Responsibility
After the fact
Beyond the fact
Can’t be that way
Must be adjusted
Why didn’t you fix that?
Why did you do that?
Why do you always do that?
Peace
A State Park
Set aside
Some land donated
Just a small amount
Even the introductory signage
Talks about how small it is
How it is the last piece of undeveloped land in the area
There are great trees there
Hiking we saw a Cardinal, a Red Bird, a Woodpecker, a Song
Bird
And an Anole
Small Myrtle bushes
Someone walked out through the park
And two miles out to the jetty
They said they saw Sea Turtles
Coming in?
Going out?
Small size?
I saw some photos
But not too close
Something needs to be done
Tomorrow used to be time enough
Now it needs to be done
Not just as open tomorrow
But in exact tomorrow
Time to see
Time to learn
Time to suggest
Time to save
But how?
It will be done
Something will be done
Tomorrow
Again, again
The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men oft times go astray.
Time to go.
Time to begin.
It must all fit together
Put it together
Save the Parts that are broken
Patch, Do, Correct
Fix
Peace
Aside
Size
Of fear
And disappointment
Sometimes
By its own weight
Topples
Fallen, broken asunder
The parts and Pieces no longer strong
And sure
With simple motion
And exercise of ambition
Want and need
Some forward impetus
May be established
Growth can continue again
Growth will resume
Increase growth
As long as impedence is kept at bay
Or managed
Roots grow deep
But
If impeded
Grow outward
Or may swell in strength
And break their bounded container
Break their bounded wall
Then, once free again to expand
And grow
To enlarge their space and reach out and pass strength
Nutriment
Life Force and Energy
To the Tree
The Body
Mind, Spirit, Soul or any Object
By the Law of Expansion
Then
Achieving its natural size
For man and woman
We can apply Life, Courage, Yearning, Bravery
And other goodly items
Manners and such
Bewared, then, you, of the growth of anger and evil
As they will attempt
Also to exceed
Their boundaries
Once fear is set
Aside
The Water We Are Made From
How can I redress
A wrong I do not know?
How can I build
An edifice if I don’t know what it is for.
How can good deeds be done
If the need is not known?
Speak Out
And tell the World what you seek and require
Guidance may come
Why would you set aside your life
And live behind unknown needs
And hidden walls
If all you need to do is reach out?
To speak out
To ask
To tell
A bridge that is broken is a danger
Until it is identified for repair
Polluted air is not normal
Polluted soil is not normal
Polluted water is not normal
A poisoned Earth is not normal
It should not be tolerated
It must be corrected
Earth should be clean and healthy
Filled with Life as it once was
The poisons poured on the Fine Sheen of Life
Which disrupts Earth’s predisposition
To support and nurture us
Must be cleared away
And washed away
Earth is the air we breathe
Our larder to eat from
The soil on which we live
And the water we are made from
Walk With Me
Photos from Myrtle Beach North Carolina
And
The Lewis Ocean Bays Heritage Preserve
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