Messenger - Ioanna Gika

Cut into an arched silver line

Horizon is rising

Sifting currency on the beach

With hand made of sieves

I see the seafoam rising up

From way down

Are you the messenger

And is this home?

There’s a crane that has fallen down

Where the salt marsh is growing

No more pension for mother

Or my stepdad

I see the seafoam rising up

And changing its form:

Are you the messenger

And is this home?