"Open The Gate"

Oceans on the sand
echoing in a tune
seashells on the shore,
shattered into shingle
lying drying in the sun,
open the gate,

the memory there
stinging through us
dust to dust
thrown into ash,
vanishing, buried
where we lie.

The echo a memory
palpitating, choking
pallid on the palisade,
trying to remember why
lava bubbles
erupted in the ocean,

the poison spirit
crows in black
living in symbiosis,
their bright eyes open
seeing the seashore
to bury us,

so afraid to find her,
our sister, a desert shell
lying under a petrified tree
cast into stone;
her memory
of our seashore.

The Tsunami waves
a broom sweeping
sand to the shore,
for a child to hide
a shell in her hand
there on the beach.