Barefoot Sand


Solitary Spirituality

Barefoot Sand


There is no soft sand

on my black beach

There is no brass band

to walk behind purple banners

They’re long gone


Uncaring, grey and cold

my northern sea

Broken, no longer bold

the people on my black beach

Coal dust not sand between my toes

yet I remember Lindisfarne


A murder of crows

a ruined abbey

delicate print of her toes

cascading laughter

disappears under the endlessly caressing tide


Lindisfarne ~ the Holy Island


by Jack Collier

2 responses

  1. Thank you so much, I try to write poetry, sometimes…


  2. akismet-8b1cbbe482b9f78c7cb39488eab92a4d

    I love poetry and this was just beautiful. very evocative.


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