The Stranger On The Shore

This poem is the tale of a veteran of the Normandy landing who honours his fallen comrades for the very last time.

The Stranger on the Shore

He stood on the foreshore in silence just listening and watching each wave,
reflective in thought in that moment, mourning the loss of the brave.
As he leans on his stick, he feels sorrow for comrades who perished and died,
his arthritic hands grip tightly as he studies the incoming tide.

The salty tears of remembrance trickle down his face in a stream,
he thinks of the men who had fallen and wished it was all in a dream.
Those young men who had lots of passion, ambition abruptly destroyed,
families damaged and broken never able to fill such a void.

He screams in anger and fury; he shouts with frustration and grief,
no longer able to fight, just a hope that he gets some relief.
The tempestuous sea holds no secrets she takes whatever is there,
there is no choice or selection just knowledge that nothing is fair.

In that instant he relives the carnage, the noises the screams and the smell,
he weeps like a small child abandoned, a suffering that he cannot tell.
Studying his now crooked fingers eight decades have since past him bye,
permission to grieve friends and comrades before his time will be nigh.

With solemn and sober reflection, he knows this time is the last,
for him his years have been plenty but for them there is no long past.
The stranger on the shore takes a moment in prayer he prays for them all,
as turns to walk from the shoreline that place where many did fall.

ⓒ Teresa Harrison-Best

2024