You Tried To Gun Me Down

The pebbles use their
Broad blunt backs.
To push up in to my skin.
Determined to relieve
All comfort, from this
Long cold time.
Used as the final weapon.
In the seas wide arsenal.
After stinging sand,
And salt, assailed me
From the air.
Yet nothing it sends
Will move me.
Even weathered
To a shapeless shrine.
I will be here.
Waiting.
When you
Are washed home.

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