Morecambe Sands

Morecambe Sands

Made an option, made a break.
Rise now as the moon dictates.
Forget the sun- accept your shift.
Make your bunkbed, equip yourself.

Blunder blind into the van
Hunker down and try to dream of
Home and family, son and daughter
Waiting silent across the water.

Photos, a phone call every Sunday
Try to keep fresh their smell and memory.
Say their names into your pillow
Make them whole and not just hollow.

Toil and work upon the sands
Dig deep, dig shells gasping into your hands
Keep your gaze upon your feet
It doesn’t pay to think or see.

The gentle sea comes sidling in
The shallow sands give no resistance.
No remorse and no restraint
Irreversible, thoughtless, blind, relentless.

“Sinking sands, sinking sands!”
The mobile phones record the hands,
Chilled fingers fumbling on the keys,
The water quiet, surging, ceaseless.

Let water take you, water bright
Lead you under, lead you right
To where the currents writhe and wreathe
To roll you home, again to breathe.