On Marsden Bay Poem by Christopher McInnes

Strange blossom lies atop the cliff at Marsden Bay,
amidst the windblown grass and grey-faced, ashen rocks:
bright flowers tied with pretty bows adorn the heath,
their petals strewn like gems along the coastal way.

And yet the cliff does not rejoice to see these blooms,
for each commemorates a youth who lies below,
and like a melancholy garland on craggy
brows, the cliff wears his floral tribute’s dismal plumes.

The cliff stands mute, a silent witness to each death,
for every soul whose life has ended there, trod last
upon his grassy top and every time he tried
in vain to hold on tight, as each sad youngster gasped his final breath.

The vengeful surf beats hard upon his careworn face,
the foam runs down like tears; age and sorrow crumble
him and all that’s left are grief, fond wreaths and memories
of grim farewells and all the bitter scars they trace.

The darling ones have long gone now:
his was the last kind touch they felt,
his verdant crown their last caress.
So when you walk this path, tread soft,
and grieve for those who’ve gone before.