The Turning of the Tide

The Turning of the Tide

It is not the raging storm
or over-reaching sea,
wild and uncontrolled,
that breaks this tree,

Or the sudden, frenzied force
of a blind fault, jolting
like an untrained horse,
that tears these roots.

It is not the rain that falls
unchecked, the flood that broods
in still of night, that
weakens this wood,

Or ravages of earth that
leave this scar on my heart.
They were never there.
No, nothing apart

From the slow, steady pull of
sea against sand--that dark
Eternal sadness
etching its mark
at the turning
of the tide.