Solitary Spirituality

Barefoot Sand

There is no soft sand

on my black beach

There is no brass band

to walk behind purple banners

They’re long gone

~

Uncaring, grey and cold

my northern sea

Broken, no longer bold

the people on my black beach

Coal dust not sand between my toes

yet I remember Lindisfarne

 ~

A murder of crows

a ruined abbey

delicate print of her toes

cascading laughter

disappears under the endlessly caressing tide

Lindisfarne ~ the Holy Island

by Jack Collier