The Warrior of the Waters

The fresh sunshine of the coast
Awakening the damp sand
Tenderly kissed by the morning waves
The golden drop, slowly trickling upward
The ocean air, heavy with salt
The sticky breeze in tropic heat
The delightful spray of new life

The cry of the seagulls awakens the fisherman
His coarse hands
The fruit of his early toil
Sculpted over the ocean of time
And sets foot in the damp soil
Lovingly pecked by the froth of the waters
The vermilion sun in the tan sky
His arms, brawn and built
The son of the ocean in slaving

Let the chains immerse themselves
And hush the throb of a tiny sprouting heart
To let four more hum in peace

The calm waters, washing ashore poetry
Some, of joy and mirth
Some, of pain and tears
Carrying dissolved voices of hope and life
And yet an ocean of smothered cries.

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