The Sand Bar

The Sand Bar

He told me

about the full moon,

about this place,

the place that I was


and lost

24 years ago.

He showed me pictures

and inside

I cried.

I thought,

Silence may have been the key

to preservation.

I felt

a sense of shame

of blame


10,000 dancers, dancing and raving

in a concrete jungle, born from seeds

we left behind

on the full moon

on the beach.

For us

The journey was long

18 hours,

by bus, speed boat and long tail boat.

I remember the burn that lasted days

resting between my thighs and knees.

By my third visit I had learned to keep my self covered

on those last 30 minutes by reua hang yao,

through shallow waters

along coast line filled with coconut palms

and glistening white sand beaches

to Haad Rin Nok

sunset beach.

We would haul our back packs,

jump into the blue

and run through deep sand

along the unbeaten track

to secure our place in paradise.

To Haad Rin Nai.

Sunrise Beach,

where buffalo travelled along tracks bringing provisions

and roamed freely with the pigs and chickens that pecked

beneath my coconut palm hut.

Where Orchids grew wild amidst the mangroves and coconut palms shaded trees of mango, rambutan, tamarind and pomello.  And where, in the hard wood forest that stood tall, monkeys played, and king cobra and pythons slithered.

2 months, the first time.

6 weeks the second

4 the next, 6 the time after.

maybe 14 times in 4 and a half years.

It takes time to get accustomed to doing nothing.

It takes time to truly relax.

I would rise with the colours of the sun and roll from bed to silken sand and slip into the Andaman to cleanse the pheromonal sweat from my young and tender flesh and dance beneath the blanket of the lapping sea. This was my sanctuary, the place I found my soul, my body, its beauty, it’s strength, it’s sensuality.

In the beginning there were few to share this heaven

but those few, we grew to know

and each one grew to know themselves.

In the afternoons we played frisby on the beach

and in the evenings we walked to sunset beach

to smoke and watch the colours paint themselves upon sea and sky.

At weekends there was the jungle disco

Other nights a video in one of the 3 restaurants.

And after lights out at eleven

we would sit beneath the crowded sky and share stories.

The first beach party was ours,

boom box, fire and BBQ,

we made a tradition

every month

under the full moon.

And slowly,

the tide turned

You see It was so beautiful

we had to tell people about it

and then they had to see for themselves

experience the pleasure

dance in the jungle disco

have the full moon party on the beach

and over my time,

more people came.

Goa’s ravers descended

first in small groups and then

in hoards.

The small boom box grew into an amp and speakers

and sprouted a DJ.

Magic tea turned to paper laced fun,

bungalows multiplied,

concrete began to grow

and tracks became paths, became roads

through sand.

And as my idyll grew into the jungle and turned concrete.

I got lost within the crowds and the beat of its tracks.

I said farewell and could return no more.

Everything must change

it’s a consequence of life

but who says for better.

This entry was posted in Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to The Sand Bar

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