Ghosts in the Water

When our limbs grow frail and our leaden eyes dim,
Hand in hand, we shall step beneath the waves,
Firm feet in the sand, towards the dusky rim,
We will welcome the darkness of the waters' depths.

Our hair drift out like silver seagrasses behind us,
Fanned by the crash of distant waves high above.
We will sing with mermaids in our coral tombs,
Our voices rise as ocean foam,
Hear it echo in whitened bones, cleaned and hollowed
by the sand, the water, the salt and the stones.

Tempests shall not wake us from our deepened slumber.
We see distant crash of ships as driftwood sinking down.
The dead that thrashed and writhed are at peace below the surface,
We close their eyes in the restful sleep of the drowned.

When the sea-crabs that skate along the silence of the ocean floor
Feast upon our lips, we will hear no human voices.
We will own no name, beneath the waves we live as ghosts
In the cold water, we shall drown no more.