I am very lucky to work next to the Sea and often take lunch time walks with my colleagues. Today I took a stroll alone. It’s national poetry day as well, and I happened to write a poem on my stroll!
I took a lonely stroll, along an old war path with a floating wall of defense. The beauty of a history with echoes of an accent, war commands, and blood shed.
I think of the things the sea has seen, the places and sites the water has been. The souls it has touched, the people it has drowned, the vibrations of voice and sound.
Thoughts flood my mind of the people on the phone, anxious and worried, broken and bone. I wonder what would happen to them, if a war broke out here.
Would they be soldiers and put to good use, would they crumble and cave and would they be brave? When the choice of freedom is put to the test, would they survive and try their best? Or would they drown in the call of war, would they not know how to keep ashore? Would they have no fight, no skill, or would they stand up, battle or kill? Have we lost the will, the passion to try, is it too easy to give up and and say ok, I will die? Have we learnt expectations, things given with a free hand? Have we let life drift like wind in the sand? Have we lost our roots, never shown the world by walking in old boots? Have we lost our way, living careless, vacant, day by day?
I stroll along a lonely path and enter my 4 walls, listening with empathy to the voice in the calls….