I have come to the sea to be with the lost
I have brought them with me and I see them
on the anniversaries of their dying only the sea
matches the churn and the shattering
the great surges dragging over the bottom
the toppling the roar of their blood in their veins
I walk the soft sand and I hear them behind me
the shouts of their joy and their surprise at living
I hear them behind me and I see them
running ahead of me they run through me
I am with them in the slipping surf
a ghost walking with ghosts.
.
