knocks at my thought
from the thought of the ocean
a paddle
lost by a boat in a memory wave
like a submerged rock surrounded by walls
where from a whimper departs

silences go out to greet him in the evening
witnesses being only the mornings
lost through ports
no one hears his grief
tuck to his chest like a poniard

and then

in a sign of resignation
walks hand in hand with the rain
in the salt of the ocean from were he emerged
to ask people when alienation
was born