Return To Naught Poem by Adrianne Quinlan

I saw them on the streets of Anchorage,
In shop corners and alleyways
Begging for handouts.

The once great nations of this country,
Drooling and watery-eyed,
Force-fed liquor and false promises.

Uprooted and landless.
Mourning lost loved-ones of olden times,
Dug out in preparation for the new world.

Empty shells discarded on the street corners
Like so many conch shells at the Resort,
Stinking in great plies by the ocean's shore.
Left for the sea to reclaim and recycle
Into course, cross, insignificant bits.

But let the sea bring them oysters
Along with their dignity and pride.
That they own naught
But the warmth of the sun,
The cool of the breeze,
And the shelter and the shade of the trees.