To Mindless Forces

who tumble
all the stones
along the shore
of Campobello Island,
smacking glass
with sand until
the cutting edge
is frost, I'm telling
you for whom
all wars and ages
are a day's grind
to go on grinding.
Smooth and fling
me now with what
you flung before.
This way the prayer
is answered
if not heard.
The sea heaves
dumbly on but I
can speak. Sea,
take this shore.
I call your taking
fine.

Copyright © 2009 K.A. Hays All rights reserved
from Black Warrior Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission