sentinels

“we preserve the prejudices of the sea,

stand as dog-eyed soldiers
 
some fallen, in wooden uniforms, hear
the murmur of the wind
 
we overlook our foolishness, have no 
loved ones to go home to
 
except old growth forests, but now a
blacked topped, yellow
 
striped highway is where they lay,
like our feet beneath 
 
cold water, passing clouds taunt us
much like motorists who
 
taunt hitchhikers, they starve for 
attention as did dying
 
soldiers on forgotten battlefields, we,
as sentinels hear their
 
echoes, but as we are regimented in
deep sand, we can but 
 
only salute them, a distant sun sets 
as the night approaches,
 
approaches as village children did,
pilfering watches and wallets
 
the night pilfers the light of the day,
remnants try to steal away
 
like dying hands grasping wedding
rings, dusk is the colleague
 
of the poor; they both barefoot through
souls, disciplined by a need
 
we preserve the prejudices of the sea
and its needs, its breath
 
its briny air… “

Copyright © 04/19/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®

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