Time (is) longer than twine. --Bajan proverb
The waves go in and out
pulling and pushing
bits of coral.
Bones of the island.
It has always been this way
since this island began
with the first coral skeleton
pushed above the first wave.
Life
then death
then life built on it
in layers
catching dirt in its skirts
to nourish the seeds that scuttle past
or fall from the soaring birds.
The coral that rolled in the surf
of Granny's girlhood
has been ground between sea
and shore
and now it is the white sand that clings
to the black skin of laughing children.
Year ago they measured with string--
there were no rulers--
Small things,
curved things
things that grew.
But time
longer than twine
reaches up into the impossible blue
tied to some hidden kite.
We catch a glimpse
as loosening grip
tears it away
and pulls spirit to Our Maker
and the dancing spot of color.
Janna O'Donnell copyright 2007
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Comments: 26
Excellent as always Janna.
of Granny's girlhood
has been ground between sea
and shore
and now it is the white sand that clings
to the black skin of laughing children."
I loved this part most of all, Janna. Wonderful poem!