Worn by a century of tide
sunken in golden grains,
a concrete pebble relic
is covered in a matting
of crusty shell woven with
flaps of wet weed
hunched in the sun
drying to salty shine.
In long darkness light holds sway
blinding all who hold hope,
while a breeze brews to bluster
bringing silent cries.
The ocean curls its foaming lip
and rushes a tongue
to lick and furl a silvery caress
on lips that breathe and breathe
until their final breath.
These buried bones
washed and worn by tide and time
cast shadows; years of hate
and angry shouts
in an open casket where lingers death.