The Final Journey Poem by Sally A Mortemore

Collecting stones
the shimmer of water reflects acceptance
with an untouchable flourish of tenderness
never quite understanding its importance
as it relinquishes its children from the shore.
Small stones smooth as glass
caressed by the retreating tideline
along with the jagged ones
and the ever heavier rocks —
such desperate fingernails digging with persistence
releasing them from their sandy grip.
They nestle side by side
stow-aways in the hollow of a deep bag
dragging a trail through the lace of shingle
as the weight steadily increases.
Not too many so they cannot be lifted -
but not so little as to transpire in failure.
Heaved onto dejected shoulders
they begin their return journey to the riverbed
the meander of water gradually engulfing
until their is nothing left —
except for a pair of shoes
limp with grief
under the blue of a summer evening …
under the heat of the cloudless sky.

Sally A Mortemore 2021