Albatross Poem by Charl JF Cilliers

Beneath the oceans, under stones,
lie many polished bright bleached bones,
silent under mountains of the sea,
cast down, forgotten, abandoned like debris.

The warm sun does not touch them there.
Rocked in endless sleep, not by one breath of air,
they never hear the albatross’s cries sound
for all those sailors who have ever drowned.

It is as if, from canyons of the waves, cries disinterred
by wind speak for that ancient and prophetic bird:

I pay homage to all who have gone before,
I cry for the dead, but for the living more.