Picture it &Write/ Capturing the Sun


 I reached the edge of the shore and kicked off my shoes, allowing the soft cool waves to lick at my bare feet. They resembled the persistent whispers of a story unspoken. I stood alone on the remote beach where the silvery moonlight divulged shadows of my broken existence.

The steady midsummer breeze blew across the murky waters, waking the glass-like stillness that sent a chill around my slender body. It caused my thin sarong to flap, akin to dark angel wings.

The soft sandy shore felt as a kiss of ice beneath my feet, but neither the icy breeze nor the wet sand could ease my smoldering soul.

I hugged myself to ward-off the sudden chill thinking of the warm summer days when we stood here hand and hand.  We were so young, so full of ideas that would change the world. How foolish of us to believe that the world would want we offered.

Year after year I watched the toll rejection, disappointment and failure took on you in the slow dulling of the shine that was once so bright in your loving eyes. We continued our guest in earnest to hand out our gift to those who wanted it.  We were beaten, and arrested on many occasions for our efforts, but we stood our ground, our massage wouldn’t be silenced, no matter what. Days turned into years of hardship and lack, but I stood by you through it all.

It broke my heart that day at the UN when you presented what we offered freely to the world.

“It’s an unending power source!” you yelled, as they took you away in restraints. “Don’t you understand, it can save us!” Yet no one wanted to hear the ranting of a mad man, who calmed to have bottled the sun.

I stand here alone wondering if all that money was worth betraying you that day. They destroyed every single bottle of what we created the day they took you away.

I tried, but I couldn’t reconstruct what took us to create from love. I often wonder if they believe, that we had captured the sun, now that you both are dead.

Copyright © 2013 Glynis Rankin


  1. A very different kind of heartbreak from what I first expected when I started reading. I really like the mood of this phrase: “The steady midsummer breeze blew across the murky waters, waking the glass-like stillness…”

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