The Sea

And the river feeds

the vast insatiable hunger of the sea

where it meets the land,

and me

and men place stones

that were born elsewhere, from fire

to enclose this birthing place

of land and soul

dark wall of granite

bearded, worn

and the sea reaches out

for the sky she meets but cannot touch;

by the shore for which she

yearns so much

rebuffed

and my soul stretches out from where

I stand, in conjoined silence

with the lonely swell

waiting

and I am drawn to where the sea

heaves itself against the sky,

and the limits

of a small man's expansiveness;

a petrel on wings of foam

grazing the swelling, swirling surface,

for what the deep discards.
                                                                                                               © niall oconnor 2014