Untitled

• Zena Cashion, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2013

I walk, I see not one soul and I hear not one soul.
The moon is reflecting off the soft waves.
The sand is sticking between my toes and the broken shells are cutting my feet.
I’m alone. I have no one, friends, no family, no one.
People call me homeless but I call the beach my home.

My mother died 3 years ago when I was 12.
I haven’t lived in a house since.
I make fishing rods out of sticks, old fishing line and hooks you find in dead washed up fish.
It’s the only way I can get food, I use outside taps for water to drink.
And I wash my clothes in the ocean.
I get dirty looks by other people and family’s it’s like they think I’m some kind of monster.