Rastar Spoke to the Sea

Rastar spoke to the sea
And the wind, ruffling his dreadlocks,
Chided him for his impertinence.
He listened to its whine
As it swept from beach to gloom.
Confronting the sea he cried,
‘I am Rastar. Go back!’ But the sea
Could hear only the screech of gulls,
For his cries seized by surging swells
Were carried over clamorous seas
To glide above seething shallows.

So the sea spoke to him,
‘You are Rastar go back!’
He ignored its watery whispers,
Pale echoes of the sighs and cries
From the rocky causeway,
The perilous pathway to the rocky Isle.

Then in a brief relief of silence
The sea spoke to him,
‘You were Rastar. There is no way back.’