We’re not concrete in a seawall.
People are alive
not cemented together.
We move, sway with the quakes
bend with the wind.
Hold fast.
Until the wave smashes us apart.
Rips our walls
tugs us out to drift.
Wipes its but
washes its hands
and flushes us anew.
We rebuild our seawalls,
prepare to weather the next.

© James Butler 2011