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Bones in Shifting Tides
Bones in Shifting Tides Stephen L. Harrison
I stand on the sand— sand that was rock once, now mixed with bones, old bones of ages past. I think of what age means, how the sea tells its story with every restless push and pull. The water, a shifting screen, hides its Carnal Knowledge beneath the waves.
The crowded beach is bright— sunlight, laughter, youth, skin that burns, minds that need what the sea conceals. I am glad we survive, that we endure. In this living, lies a seed of hope— for peace, for love to stay.
Long after I become sand, my bones and yours will be the ground they walk on.
I stand on the sand—
now mixed with bones, ancient bones from long ago. I think about what age means, how the sea tells its story with every restless movement. The water, like a changing screen, hides its deep secrets under the waves. The busy beach is bright—
skin that gets sunburned, minds that desire what the sea keeps hidden. I am happy we survive, that we keep going. In this life, there is a seed of hope— for peace, for love to remain. Long after I turn into sand,
will be the ground they walk on.