Fog at Sea
Poetry
Published in
1 min readApr 28, 2024
A slight mist, an autumnal sway,
Celtic, crossed and re-crossed,
we’re on our way;
a watery calvary
stares back at me.
Delving into this thick unblemished air
we dead coagulate at Golgotha,
in Palestine, where two thousand years
plant horrors in our minds