Crashing, frothing, ebbing, the tide carries them away

I want to say something haunting about
the tossing white waves;
but all I can think about is blood
staining the walls of Palestine—
orchards severed,
paper,
pencils, pretzels and shuddering breath
not always visible;
May is a wound festering, can you feel it?

 

 

 

 

Photo credits: Nicolai Yegorovich Makovsky artwork, Pinterest

Lillian is our hostess today at dVerse and the word is
“Wound.” Come join us! 🥠

Posted for Quadrille #128: What’s in a Word @ dVerse Poets Pub