The water’s not so deep
down here, it’s still stirred
on the sea-bed by the off-shore tide.
The seaweed waves in slow rhythm, almost gracefully.
Sometimes a crab, going somewhere not apparent
with laborious stubborn intent
displaces very slightly the bone-white skeleton
lying on its back, almost relaxed, almost temporary,
as if waiting for time to give some signal
to turn those stark claws back into a son’s hands
or the current turns a few degrees the eyeless head,
the young jaw, as a light sleeper
in a dream, submissive to the tide;
peaceful; down here
in this filtered light
death, grief, tears, a mother's memories
seem unknown, have no place.
Michael Shepherd
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/0012-only-one-life-was-lost-in-this-disaster/
