All Over Again
Isn't the sea a fist with the earth inside?
When capped with white outrage and egged by roars,
waves can corkscrew through breakwaters with ease.
After the frothing, it disappoints though,
the roar vanishes, apologetic,
it cedes the sea to ship horns and seagulls.
We forget what we fought for, to march anew
is new, not remembered, but we will roar
once more, we are capped again with outrage,
there are ships to upend, dictatorships,
islands to reach, children to feed, after
the end of every ebb, like the sea, we heave,
we hope to win a beachhead, perhaps an inch
more of the shore, with every wave, open
a few more minds before we have to do it again.