Refugee

With a fire whipped ocean

And the boatmen’s song.

Voices in waves

Sail the morning winds.

Tumbling from salt spray lips

Rhythm and hymns,

Caught on wings of a guillemot.

In a theatre of fog

Music takes flight,

Rising, like a streak of mist

To face heaven’s door.

And boatmen weep.

Sing goodbye, to the waves,

Lost upon the sorry sea,

As day dies still,

And the boatmen sleep,

And the boatmen sleep.

And we sleep.

©EilidhGClark