Horror grips us as we watch you die
All we can do is echo your anguished cries
Stare as all human feelings die
We are leaving, you don’t need us.
Go, take your sister then by the hand
Lead her away from this foreign land
Far away, where we might laugh again
We are leaving, you don’t need us.
And it’s a fair wind, blowin’ warm
Out of the south over my shoulder
Guess, I’ll set a course and go. ~~~ Wooden Ships – Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young (1969)
This very old tree stump (photo above) is my beach shrine –
I try to get there every day, lean into its solidity, and leave a little decoration – a symbol of my reverence for this awesome place and what it used to be.
Its solidity grounds me.
And at times, I’m so filled with some strange awe, that I talk to it.
