Strange sounds
in strange places.
Hauntings that echo
through time.
Pleading calls
beg the resurrection,
the final judgement
of our kind.
White waves
batter the rocks
in rhythm
with the heartbeat
of our mourning sea.
The shoreline,
remains indifferent,
its granite form
unyielding.
From the dark stillness
of a black cove,
the old, white church
stands out for miles,
like the apparition
of a lonely bride,
a revenant
of a simpler time.
When there were
less lights
moving in the darkness,
and fewer noises in the night.
The fog rolls in
to take away our vision,
but it does not
strike us blind.
Something moves
around us, here.
A creaking stair,
a disembodied sigh,
that stretches back
along the coast
to another time.
To remind us
where we come from,
remind us
who we’ve been,
before our ghosts
recede
with the tide
again.
DJR – 2023
