LOOKING FOR LOST SEA SHELLS
(For Cloclo, Loulou, and Momo)
1. At the Flowerpot Island
It was strange while they gawked at it:A wall fencing the sea in as moat manqué,
Or is it a battle bastion cutting land off
Where the meadows met with the mist
Cloaking this hunting ground at sunrise?
Did cannons roar atop these lime stonesWhen, in stealth, tall ships sought shelter
From the roaring waterspout howlers,
Leeward wind that kept even the brave
In their teepees and the hunted in lairs?
Are sundown tales of weeping mothersClutching their limp, bloodied infants
Slumber stories here, like roaming ghosts
Peeking into tents watching the wee ones
Snuggle deep into a mother’s embrace?
Did the dogs of war prowl these shoresSome time when God, grain, and gold
Were chattel peddled, if not coveted,
By conquering intruders from beyond
Who decreed suns never set in empires?
2. Looking for Seashells
There is nothing in that crevice or cranny,Little one, you will not find lost sea shells
Buried there; they have been reclaimed
By the sea, like a mother who will not trust
Anyone who slays children in their sleep.
Elsewhere, while you dream of waterslidesAnd moonlit beaches, sand caves, sunsets,
And laughter among the dunes of Sauble,
Lads and lasses, mothers and fathers, too,
Shall not wake up to another misty morning.
Before bedtime, after another sundown ,My wee ones, look long and hard at the sea,
Ask her gently to lend back some sea shells.
You will return with bright flowers in them.
---ALBERT B. CASUGAAugust 22, 2013, Mississauga
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