Footholds in the Brine of Sea
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[ hear the song ]
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all drift side by side
in grief's uncharted sea
starfish grip the surge
while seahorses coil and plunge
helpless, prancing in the brine
Some flee from the tide
yet none escape its etching
the shore bears its scars
waves return what once they stole
the past is bound to here now
barnacles hold fast
clinging on to weathered wood
on wharf posts astray
wailing to passing shoals
a dirge for the drifted-off
The tide gives and takes
gathers wrecks then steals away
we cling to fragments—
to a hull, stone, or a ghost,
whatever offers foothold
the sea runs through us
austere, fierce, and resonant
its surf a raw hymn
not written, but overheard
its sound louder than words
clams, seashells, pearls wait
companions in churning swells
silent side by side
each shell guards a hidden secret
in grit and sound of ocean
cast no net to see
mark the day and guard the night
read the sea's dark code
its secret pleas for kinship
when you go, with flow and wave
the waves that bear us
lift each soul when swell rises
with cadence and rhythm—
to sing the sea shanty songs
to those who drifts on the tide
Copyright © John Anderson | Year Posted 2025
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