Uncaring Shores Poem by Bill Mitton

There is beauty here within
this sea silvered bay
rich bounty too, along the
tide’s shorn edge
whilst the green ramparts of
proud Cumbria
hold back the weather’s
cold, angry, excesses
and the wind hold no threat
within her singing.
Lulled by the scene,
drawn on by the promise
of the sand’s hidden bounty
six thousand miles from home,
they walk upon the
moon sheened wetness
of this foreign bay
not knowing of the tide’s
Medusain threat.
That silver icy snakes
crept steadily upon them
hidden by the contours
of glowing sands.
They should have left
an hour since
but none is there to tell
none hold their lives
of importance
none care for their safety
they are pitied
no better on the shore
than by the silver snakes
who came to kill them.
They are illegals
escapees from another tide
which sweeps their land
they are a new slavery
bought and sold
by the slave masters
of this mobile age
and
tonight the sea’s silver snakes
will pay their slave price