My mom used to tell me
That waves live short lives
They swell up with pride
Before crashing to death
Since then, I’ve wondered
Where waves go when they die
What happens to their souls
After receding from the sand?
If they have an undertow
Do they have an undertaker?
A collector for the remains
Of a wave that used to be?
Do the other waves mourn
For the loss of their friend?
Is it tears I feel upon my face
For loved ones to be missed?
Are they welcomed back to sea
Celebrated for their valor
In some never-ending struggle
Against the shoreline
Probably they’re just waves
Doing what waves always do
And it was just a story from a lady
Struggling to get by
Thank you so much for reading. If you liked my work, and want to support it, the best ways are financial support, spreading the word, or following along on email or Bluesky.
Originally published on austingil.com.
Hey Austin. Thanks for sharing your poetry. It is the only thing I understand on your website. When I read about disabilities and whatever, I thought you meant human handicaps lol. But I will stop by occasionally to check out if more poetry is on here.
Much love to you dear one. Merry Christmas everyday (like I think it ought to be).