It has been a super busy week once again in the real world adventure I refer to as life. I have to give a HUGE shout-out to Mark Kerstetter for providing such an amazing prompt for Poetics last week. I may not have made it to post, but I can certainly say in my efforts, I have produced a number of attempts. One of which I am presenting here for my OpenLinkNight Post. So, as one of the best poets I’ve yet to encounter steps up to man the bar (yes, Brian Miller…I’m pointing my finger at you) I ask you to forgive me my absence, accept this drink on me, and prepare to settle in for another fantastic evening with the dVersePoet family.
She stands upon the shore, toes buried in the cool sand
Even the cry of the gulls cannot penetrate her walls,
Nor does the sea foam of the incoming tide warrant herattention.
The sun is setting, a ball of molten fire in the sky
Melting into the ruddiness of the burnt umber water
That is the Bay of Fundy.
There are ships upon the horizon now
Returning home from their pirating adventures
Traps set, quotas met, yet she pays no mind.
She has stood like this for many life times
Held in place, enchanted, by the lure of the sea
The taker, the maker, the gut of humanity
But it has been in this life time, she has watched herbleed out
As her children wash up upon the shore
Slick, greasy, awash in rainbow black,
Poisoned at the hands of her stewards
Whose minds she has witnessed slowly invaded
Corrupted by nothing less than the desire for more.
The salt of the sea must not be mistaken
For the salt that now stings her parted lips.
Swallowing tear drops, born of the mutilation of all thatwas once pure.
Her heart is now the heaviest it has ever been, her blood
The blood of generations, faltering in its power
As it tries to fuel a heart that has lost hope.
A sand crab skitters before her, knowing better than toapproach
There is a wildness in her eyes, a fire that smoulders
Despite the air of defeat that surrounds her.
That her children were born of free will
That she will guide only when asked.
Who knew the world would fall under the pressure offreedom.
The time for influence and guidance is now long past.
The children, who, in her efforts to let them live
Have somehow forgotten her…her love, her nurturing, herwrath
They have grown wild in their lack of supervision
The few have chosen the fate of many
And now the cleansing will come.
Between slim and delicate fingers
A simple clam shell, long abandoned
Catches the glow of the sun’s last rays
And with a sigh that stops the waves
She tosses it gently to the water’s edge
And for the first time
Mother turns from tide
Knowing the time has come
To let the fate of her children, run its course.