And the waves weep.

Tears sweep the gleaming sand.

Water etches sculptures in the cliffs.

We only see the rocks.

 

As the waves weep,

our tears drip from our chins.

Drops of water wear holes in stone.

Are we the waves?

 

And the waves laugh.

Their notes like sea gulls rise

to nest on rocky ledges,

echoes on the wind

in joyous chorus.

 

As the waves laugh

the peals ring against the cliffs.

Music to the soul.

We are the waves.

 
 

David Garlick, Victoria, July, 1991