Shore and Tide

Sleep well, little baby
There may not be morning again
Home is stolen, and soggy
Far from your sister and father and everybody

The palms, drowned,
and paddies, shattered, in disdain
the fish serenade, dead,
in the vast blackness of today -
the harvest of sorrow burns me…but you are safe.
Sleep well, little baby, I will not leave you to God’s grace
And yet….the slow tears of eternity stare at me from your face

January 2005