On the shore, between sea and land,
My spirit stands fast as a cliff.
Edges slate and rocks crumbling,
Weathered and trialed.
Salty waves do crash and churn,
Pulling out and away sand and face.
Remember, though, my spirit, a cliff exposed,
Is born of the earth, a core of fire and stone.
Pain may claw and bite and break,
The ocean may wash away some youth,
But it still stands, strong and bold,
Holding small life and clinging hope.
Birds do nest and feet still rest,
On my ancient body, bones and thinning flesh.
Those who listen, who trust, who watch,
Will learn my wisdom.
My spirit, a cliff, does know the shore well,
Between the old land and the deep sea.