Homing

Cant stop tears

Long coming

Hold my hand

Hold in my hand

Sand of hope

They don’t know

No idea of wading

Waiting for the waves

Wash over

No strength in my bones

Years spend  honing

Holding the pen

Stab in the heart

Mightier than swords

or cups, coins and wands

Lines in the hands

Lies in both

How far out the wader goes

Currents throw sinking sands

St Micheal on the Mount knew

Killed the dragon

Fire Earth Air and Water

Changing and balance, scales held

Blind eyes judging

Coming home

Drag through the door

Breaking the surface for breath

Water or tears

Dust

Home

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