Sand Poem by Sheena Blackhall

I had a father. I loved him well
Where he has gone no-one can tell
He has slipped through my hands like sand, like sand
He has slipped through my hands like sand

I had a grandmother, cheerful, kind
Stepped from her flesh, too far to find
She has slipped through my hands like sand, like sand
She has slipped through my hands like sand

I had a son, went into the dark
My guardian, my bold one, my singing lark
He has slipped through my hands like sand, like sand
He has slipped through my hands like sand

Out on the tide, where the billows roar
Sits the boat that will carry me to their shore
I shall slip from the land like sand, like sand
I shall slip from the land like sand