When we pour the ashes of the departed out to sea,
terns scatter upwards, shrieking.
On shore, waves claw at statuaries.
Water, whether becalmed or in havoc, never held us in life
and will not hold the grieved.
Twenty-thousand days of light quickly sieve through.
The sea reclaims its color.
Time has set the continents adrift.
The collective of stars slowly shift around us
as we float back toward our homes
clutching an empty receptacle.