We Almost Came Back
we almost came back
to the place where we parted
perhaps to say
we never meant
to say goodbye—
on an island ferry
I saw your face
arise from a sea
of nameless faces
and you saw mine
I sat on the brown cot,
notebook on my lap
the ferry’s horn
blasted through the cabin
as we started to move
the sun sat low on the horizon
pink and orange light
shimmered
across the wooden deck
as I wrote—
I heard footsteps from afar
you walked towards me
wearing the green shirt,
the blue jeans I knew
my legs,
they could not move
you stopped midway,
twenty steps from where I was,
leaned across the railing
and just stood there
our eyes met
then you looked away,
your hands gripped hard,
jaws tightened,
Spanish eyes peered
into the distance,
where the sea turned
darker,
deeper
I waited for you
to come closer
perhaps
you waited for me
I sat where I was—
a nearby radio played
a song we knew
when the music ended
you walked away.
the ferry reached the dark island
faint lights from other vessels
flickered upon the pier
my hands felt numb
as I grasped the gangplank ropes—
I turned my face
towards the gathering
monsoon wind
—D. G. Vachal ©2026
Image by Harrydona @pixabay
The often complex tug of goodbyes is wrapped in a quiet poetic empathy for the hearts involved, beautifully written. ✨
Thank you so much, Susan. I’m grateful the poem spoke to the quiet complexities of goodbye. Your kind reflection means a lot. ✨
Oh, so poignant! So close and yet not there! Heartbreak…
Thank you so much, Ellen. The almosts can linger in quiet ways. I’m so glad you stayed awhile with the poem. ✨
The details here are compelling, almost haunting. Presence leading to absence. Sad but true and well-expressed by you.
Thank you so much, Christopher. I truly appreciate the care with which you read the poem. “Presence leading to absence” is beautifully observed — I’m grateful the poem spoke to you in that way. ✨