I'd swim out to you if I could /
Feelin' low on high seas,
the bones in my legs like driftwood.
Every rock on this beach has a story to tell,
just like every grain of sand / Tell me, what do I have to do to break this spell
when love doesn't go as planned?
Bless you for giving this blind man back
his eyes /
And the ocean doesn't roar, my friend:
and if I pick up every shard
of broken paua shell
I find on the beach,
perhaps I can use them all
to piece back together
this shattered heart?
(c) Brent Harpur, 2016.
“Little islands are all large prisons; one cannot look at the sea without wishing for the wings of a swallow.”
(Richard Francis Burton)
“We are like islands in the sea, separate on the surface but connected in the deep.”