Silent Passages

Pam Ranido

On the alee of strange people, Where esses on the sand washed like pebbles Some were waved to distant lands Whilst others must swim away to build new islands

But most, they sail in the trying course of unknown Forsook by the water’s keep As their voyages carved with blunder and wear They bear them long, stiffens to become stones On the alee of strange people beneath, The cloud sheaves to launch its acquiescence Hereof to fall the seedlings of rain – nonetheless To set forth the dying stones in no defeat

Silent passages we go to pay Where warm stone stays when the others washed away From this coarse journey of separate desolation Here comes an end to a thousand mile revelation.