After The Storm Poem by M. A Heathcote

After the storm, they must count the fatalities.
Remember this tragedy with other tragedies.
And weep like they have never wept before.
While some souls will rest on the seafloor

Others resurface on the beach recumbent.
Washed ashore like an unclaimed migrant
But don't let that fool you; they were all loved.
And believe me, none of them will go unwashed.

Gravestones commemorate those who perished.
Sit above sheer cliffs of a wide horseshoe coast,
The sky and gulls cry for sailors who once were cherished,
Fell foul of rogue waves that don't grace a riposte

And has the last gurgling laugh, word in this world
Where mothers cradle their sons, their grandsons
And wives clutch their husbands like a broken bird.
A phantom of the sea who swam down fathoms

Hoping to find buoyancy
To live joyously once again
Hoping to live head above the waves once again
Wanting to be saved, knowing there's none to blame.
That fear won't fill the coffers at the table.
A fisherman's life is rewarding but perilous and glacial.