Ever Hungry Child

Obese child cupping handfuls of dirt
Slave only to the moon
Reigns otherwise supreme, massive, calm
Appeased and bloated with sacrificed corpses
Those that fell to the will of the water
In fighting for fish they inevitably
Succumb to the greedy child
That is constantly sucking, screaming, scratching at the shore
Licking its fingers for the last crumb of life left there
Be it desperate sailor
Or lopsided castle of sand
It shoves its ever hungry fingers into the corners to steal all.
I left my heart along the shore
Selfish beast you ripped him away
Plucked him out of our crumbling castle
One day with a wave of your hand
Now you wash back and forth through the hole made in me
Insult to injury
Whipping the frayed edges with your howling wind
Burning my wound with your careless salt
Merging with my own love now spilt
Your salt, my blood, our tears
Pour down my face back into your hands
Till the beast bleeds scarlet salt
Just another poor soul sacrificed
And it is calmed once again.

So, Aunt Connie, who were the Mestons?

I just got through with reading the ship diary of my ancestor James Meston, from his 1878 journey with his family from Aberdeen, Scotland to New Zealand on board the Oamaru.There was a sentence or two, or even a few paragraphs written for each day, along with their coordinates. It was fascinating to try to envision the scenery and the people on the ship. The most interesting thing was how they were all so unconcerned with death. About three or four people (including two babies) were recorded as having died on the ship, and then were never mentioned again in subsequent entries. Of course, everyone had about five children, so I guess maybe it wasn't such a big deal. It still made me wonder, though, if they really were grieving and it just wasn't recorded in the diary. It took me about 45 minutes to read this sparse account of the 12-week journey, and I am wondering about some of the smaller details. He often mentions the birds they see off the sides of the ship. I laughed a bit at the entry where the ship is "tearing along" at 13 miles per hour!

And now I know who the Mestons are, thank you very much.