Walking Unchained, Weathered…
They waded into the roused North Sea
Like humbled prisoners unchained,
No longer yearning to be free,
Their slender existence maintained.
Battered by an uncouth ocean,
They stumbled on into the waves,
Drenched by the tide’s cruel motion,
They resembled a sad line of slaves.
The stumps, the splintered, the listed,
The defiled, the blackened, the ravaged;
The withered, the shortened, the twisted,
The groynes, the weathered, the savaged…
Pete Ray
16th April 2023
The groynes at Sandsend, North Yorkshire…
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